The Mask Of Beauty and Rage
by yaztheangel
Summary: Greta got away, but the memories still remain. Soon returning home, until the man himself awaits for her, kidnapping her in the night. Betrayed, hurt, and angry. Brahms is determined to bring her back to him within the dreary walls. What if Brahms knew Greta in another life. Secrets have been kept from Greta, but for her own good? Brahms will make Greta believe and see, the truth.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my suspenseful/ romance version of "The Boy 2" I wrote and had this idea since 2016 'The Boy', but never got around to posting it online. I needed to bring the real Brahms Heelshire, and Greta Evans back into the main story line. Especially after seeing 2020 "The Boy 2" I was very disappointed in the story line. BE READY FOR A TWIST! So here we go! Comment and ENJOY! :)**

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A door. Surrounded by pure darkness. It was just straight ahead. Escape was on the other side, waiting for her arrival. Her footsteps echoed as she walked towards the door. Light tried to escape the edges of it. The floor was wet, almost as if she was walking on a thin layer of ice. Every step she took made a small puddling echo through the darkness.

She slowly dropped to her knees to touch the bitter cold water with just the tip of her fingers. She stared at her reflection in the water, noticing that half of her face was missing. It was blurry, almost appearing as someone else's face was trying to connect with hers. She tried to make out who it was, or even what it was. The reflection started to fade away. Replacing it was a large figure slowly approaching to the surface. The figure seemed to be trapped from within. Isolated, away from the full light, all it has ever known was darkness. It was born in the night destiny to remain alone.

A hand slowly approaches to reach her, but couldn't get out, a thin layer of nothing covered the water. Hesitating to bring her hand to it, unsure what was going to happen next. Her breathing was getting heavier as she got closer. This creature, this person, this thing she didn't know what it was, it was glowing, like a dim light through its chest, trying to found hope of some kind. It was abandoned, reaching to her wanting the desire of one's human touch. She was about to touch the hand, but she was too late. Then suddenly it began to sink. With its hand starting to slowly descend, to the very bottom of the miraculous abyss. Demonic hands surrounded the dim light snatching at the arms and legs as it dragged the entity deeper into the chasm.

Without thinking, or anymore hesitation in that moment she quickly rushed her hand into the water to try and reach the weak figure. She stopped immediately at the sight of her entire arm in the freezing cold water. Nothing had remained except for her bones; the skin had vanished completely. Quickly noticing a dark smoky hand rising from beneath to reach for her hand. It would do the same to her as it did to the light. Without a second thought she yanked her hand out fast in fright as she stood abruptly. The creature had vanished from below. Her flesh and blood had returned during the retraction. She could stand on the water, but could not fall through it fully, she thought.

She felt completely puzzled, where was she, what is this dreadful unending place? Feeling overwhelmed by her millions of questions she was torturing herself with, thinking she might go mad. She was standing on death himself; the light was devoured; it had dispersed from sight. Trying to compose herself she closed her eyes for a moment to take control of her breathing again. Faint whispers had surrounded her being, her eyes jolted open with alarm. They were voices, she thought, she wasn't going crazy just yet.

"Hello?" she said softly as she looked frantically to her sides.

No answer but she tried again once more feeling irritated.

"Who's there?!" her voice was stronger this time.

Silence filled the endless black space. She heard fast footsteps rushing from behind her. Suddenly hearing a child's soft laughter in amusement. Her heart stopped as she turned around rapidly. Her breathing increased once more, losing control.

A dark wooden rocking chair appearing from out of nowhere. It was at quite a distance from where she stood. Struggling to see who actually was perched on the now creaking rocking chair from afar. Her body seemed paralyzed at the sight, too scared to move anywhere. Soon she heard soft hums coming from the chair. She had finally awoken from her daze due to the enchanting sound.

What if they need my help? What if maybe I'm here for a reason.

Thoughts in the back of her mind spoke to her with ease. Freedom was right there on the opposite side, waiting for her arrival. She glanced at it, then back to the disturbing rocking chair.

_Make the right decision!_

She felt as if she was being drawn to the chair. Finally deciding, she slowly started approaching the screeching rocking chair.

_Am I going mad?_

A slightly chilly breeze came across her face and lead down her frame, making her shiver vigorously. She began to get colder as she got closer. Soon feeling uneasy about her decision, she felt a sharp pain in her stomach. But there's no going back now, she thought. The door behind her started to fade away becoming more and more distant the further she abroad.

Almost reaching the chair, her eyes were locked on it, not daring to leave her sight from the spot. Just as she was about to reach the chair, it ceased its rocking abruptly along with the soft humming. Her heart skipped a beat as she stopped dead in her tracks. What now, she thought, do I turn back? If she turned back now, she would regret it, not knowing who was calling for her.

_You have to know. You need to know._

Slowly taking ahold of the top corner of the chair, her hand shook uncontrollably. Closing her eyes, she took one long breath before facing her demise. She knew she had been through much worse though. She always had to be ready, for anything.

You're strong. Brave. Cunning. You are a survivor.

She was a survivor.

Opening her eyes with determination, she turned the stilled lifeless chair around in rage, and frustration. Her eyes shot wide open at the sight. She immediately backed away with her hands covering her mouth. She felt sick to her stomach, with an ache that led to pain throughout her body.

Its disturbing cracked bloody porcelain face was staring right at her. Cold, lifeless, unforgiving, dead stare laid heavily on her. A piece of paper with bloody little spots laid next to the doll along with a large dagger.

"NO!" she screamed with terror backing away faster.

_Follow the rules. His rules. _

The doll's face began to fall apart, it has been completely shatter. Hearing the loud glass chime together violently as its broken porcelain pieces fell into the depths below. Frantically trying to get away she slipped and had fallen on her back harshly.

Devilish hands began to rise up again breaking through the surface viciously grabbing her. She screamed in panic desperate to get away. They tried to drag her to the abyss, pulling her through. With quick thinking she struggled to turn but saw the dagger lay on the chair still, it hadn't fallen in the water. She desperately tried to reach for it, but the demonic creatures held tight. She pushed herself as hard as she could with her arm fully extended. She felt as if her arms and legs were about to fracture. Finally succeeding, she grabbed a tight hold on the dagger.

She violently stabbed the disturbing hands and arms without any hesitation. Her face was angry, upset, determined to reach her freedom. The creature's hands had become shattered like the doll's porcelain face once deceased. She stumbled to get up almost losing her balance again, under gaining full control.

She was all wet from the fall. Adrenaline kicked in fast, as she ran quickly to the other side. More hands started to shoot up fast trying to capture her once again. She dodged every movement with the dagger in her hands, determined to make it to the other side.

_Is it getting further away?_

The faster she ran the further it went, she wanted to cry, she was desperate to get out. She never stopped running. Everything started to turn all around her as she felt dizzy. The water was turning to the side with her as she was losing her balance. Everything was tilting, she panicked at the disorienting feeling. Then she fell to the side as everything turned. She had fallen through the murky waters and reached the other side.

She was somewhere else now. She laid on the ground. Her face felt moisture and dirt from the ground. The woods, she thought to herself. It was pouring rain, and mud was all over her clothes. She was in the real world; she had fallen and came back into reality. So she thought.

_You've been here from the beginning. _

She ascended, and looked about in every possible direction. She saw nothing but the large towering trees. Wiping herself off, remembering she still had the dagger clenched in her hand. Releasing the dagger as it made a hard thump on the wet ground, soon being covered by the dead leaves and water. She began to walk deeper into the endless woods. Putting her hands above her head to avoid as much water, but failed miserably.

Continuing her walk through the sinister woods she had stepped on something flat. Almost tripping from the surprising feeling of cement. Her brows knitted together as she looked down at it, then turned to the left, then to the right. She stepped both her feet onto the pavement pacing slowly to the middle.

_This was where it all started._

A road, she thought, but no cars? Where was this leading to exactly? The road wasn't fully straight, it seemed a bit swervey on the turns. Didn't think it would matter which way it led, so she began her journey. The rain began to calm, soon coming to a complete stop only to hear the remaining droplets of water fall from the leaves. The sun never appears, it remained dark and cloudy. The road was beginning to straighten out once again. She felt tired and heavy from the none stop walking; she was soaked from head to toe. Her sweater felt gross and moist at the slightest touch. She unzipped it fast, wiggling out of it as it stuck to her arms. Tossing it into the bushes, it wouldn't be missed.

She was left with a murky white tank top. The cold air felt good for just a moment, bring her back alive. She felt even lighter than before. Fog began to slither its way through the woods. Making it difficult to see what was ahead now. Sighing, she didn't know why she was here, or how. Even though at the same time it felt like she wasn't there at all.

_Don't you remember this place? You were so young._

Suddenly hearing a small crack from behind. She didn't think much of it, just assuming something might have fallen from the thick branches above. She continued her walk. The crack became even louder. She stopped dead in her tracks as her face lit up with fear. Her heart pumping blood fast as she become petrified at this very moment, that someone or something, was following her. She tried desperately to calm her breathing through her nostrils. She took another few steps further not daring to look back.

She started to hear more and more cracks, and they weren't hers. Too frightened to turn, panic started to set in like a lost child. She ran. She ran as fast as she could using every muscle strength she had left in her body. She tried to turn her head a little to sneak a peek if she was still being followed, not seeing a thick branch laying lifelessly on the ground, she tripped hard onto the unforgiving cement. Hitting her head, she couldn't stop the speed that her body was going. Seeing doubles for a second, her temple started to bleed out a little. Trying to regain consciousness, she desperately tried to pick herself up.

She was strong enough to get to her now sore knees. Her head was down as her hair stuck to her wet face. She pushed it out the way to see, suddenly letting her tears finally go. Why is this always happening to me?

"Please…, someone…, help me." She whispered softly in defeat to herself.

_I thought you could find your way back? _

She was hurt, broken, alone. She was left isolated from the rest of the world. She was still so young. So many horrific stories she has from her lifetime. She had never even spoken once about it fully, maybe this was her punishment for keeping everything to herself. She was lost, and out of answers. She needed to be loved, and cared for, she deserved better than this. She needed help.

"Greta?"

Her eyes shot open with distress. Her heart was about to give out. That voice, that child-like voice, she dreaded the day of ever hearing it again. She spun around quickly on her knees to finally face the voice. It was him.

"Brahms?" she said with a shaky voice.

He stood a good amount of distance from her. He was in the same outfit as she last saw him. His porcelain face still laid profound depressing cracks within the mask. Soaked from head to toe as she was, his chest heaved in and out deeply. His head slightly tilted to the side as he starred at her from afar. Nothing else existed to him, except for her. Greta had risen from the ground cautiously.

"I don't understand. I thought you wer-" She stopped herself fast having trouble remembering now what took place in the mansion. Her mind was running a mile a minute, too many thoughts clouding her concentration. Why was he here? What did he want? Was her suffering ever going to end?

He started to walk towards her ever so slowly. Greta took a small step back.

"You're not real." She said with an unsteady voice.

_Be a good boy Brahms._

He stopped dead in his tracks at her three simple words. Brahms stayed quite for a good five seconds still keeping all eyes on her. The drops of water bounced off his thick dark curls. His breathing become heavier now, steam was coming through the nostrils of his mask. He clenched his fists tightly but remained steady on his sides. White began to appear through his knuckles. His eyes widen with misperception as he tilted his head once again.

"You don't think I'm real, Greta?" He asked in his innocent child-like voice.

She was scared to death, even to hear a grown man manipulate the voice of a young boy so perfectly. She didn't want to answer his question.

"Silly Greta, of course I'm real. We were real." His innocent voice started to taunt her. She didn't know what to do at this point. She was thinking out her options, should she run now, or will it be too late. He was stronger, and faster then any normal man should be.

"Why did you leave, Greta?" Brahms somewhat soothing child-like voice struggled to stay in character.

Eyes locked one another, as she started to take a small step forward. Putting her hands half way up to try, and keep him remain calm.

"Brahms…, its ok, I'm here now, I didn't leave you. Your still my good boy, right?" She said softly struggling to put up a small smile.

He didn't say anything at the moment.

"I'll be good, I promise." His child-like voice pleaded towards her.

Suddenly Greta saw him kneeling before her repeating those same exact works before she ran out the mansion.

_No Brahms!_

Greta couldn't breathe at the feeling of seeing the terrifying event once again. Malcom, laying there unconsciously as Brahms's massive body towered over his, getting ready to finish him off. Suddenly he had stopped what he was doing, and immediately shot all his action onto her. She didn't know what made him stop, or what was going through his mind. His whole demeanor changed in a split second when he saw her. All she could remember was him coming closer, as she was trying to get away.

_If you leave, I'll kill him!_

Greta woke up from her deep flashback, still only to see Brahms in front of her.

"But you..., haven't been good." She said slowly.

Brahms felt rage start to bundle up inside him from her foolish choice of words. How could she say that after everything he had done for her? Looking now at the man standing before her, she had to leave. Greta could now sense the increasing tense building up within him. The air felt thick and musty from his heavy breathing, it echoed throughout the trees. Thus, it wouldn't end well, it never does. Seeing when she stabbed him hard in gut. She couldn't imagine that searing pain, but Brahms wasn't one to acknowledge pain when he was enraged.

"Brahms I-." She said with a stutter. "I had no choice, I- I have go now." She tried to say as softly as possible. She didn't know what to say to the man who almost killed her. So, she began to back away.

"Greta." His tone was lower now. The well-behaved acquitted child was gone. He started to walk towards her quickly.

She saw this, and ran the opposite direction of him. The man psycho adrenaline kicked in fast, as he ran after her. He began to scream and shout towards her. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. Greta didn't look back this time.

"Get back here! Or I'll kill you like the others! I'll kill you!" The words echoed through the woods.

_I'll kill you!_

Greta's heart was pounding hard against her rib cage. Coming to the end of the road she was back at the very same place where she had never wanted to be again.

The Heelshire Mansion.

She frantically run up the stairs desperately trying to open the door. She started to cry as the door wasn't opening.

"Come on!" She yelled.

Slamming her body against the solid door with knob in her hand. She used all her strength and got it to open. Without a second thought she jumped in, but felt a hard-strong grasp on her wrist. She winced in pain at the man taking ahold of her. Lifting her into the air, she kicked and screamed for her freedom.

Brahms threw her to the ground like a rag doll when she had managed to kick him. She stumbled to get up as her eyes laid on his wide ones. Kicking her legs up once more feeling defenseless, she tried anything. Greta managed to get up and ran down the hall. Brahms watched as she did this. He put one hand behind his back yanking the dagger out from his stitch up pocket. Brahms looked at it, then to her, he couldn't let her go.

"You can't…. leave…. me." He whispered. He darted right towards her position.

Greta body slammed against the end of the hall feeling weak. Her body turned slowly, only to see a grown man coming towards her with a dagger slowly ascending her way. She couldn't move, she was stuck. His footsteps got heavier and louder the closer he came. His body lunged towards her.

"You broke the rules!" Were his last words, before the dagger met her, everything went black.

Her body shot up from the bed, breathing heavy, her face was wet, and the sheets were damp. She looked around the room, but saw nothing accept herself in the large mirror. Greta took her hands placing them on her face with relief. It was just another dream, but her body was still shaking from the event. They all seem so real, every last one of them that she's had so far. This was by far the worst; she couldn't lay in the bed any longer. She glanced at the clock reading 2:35 A.M. She rolled her eyes as she got up from the sweaty bed. She took one of her thinner blankets throwing it over her shoulders. Greta paced herself over to the window. She sat herself on the wide ledge next to the window opening it to feel the cool refreshing air on her face. Picking her legs up she kept them close to her chest holding tight.

She looked out at the window, and into the night sky filled with tiny glimmering stars.

It had been a fortnight since the incident had occurred. There was never any sight of him again after that day. She was still in England; Greta wasn't ready to go back to America yet. She was still coping with everything that happened. Dealing with it in her own way, she couldn't go back letting her mother and sister know she was almost killed by Cole, and well..., Brahms. His name alone gave her the chills. She would never tell them any of this though, they knew too much about Cole. They sure as hell didn't need to know about a deranged man-child like Brahms living in the walls of the manor as she worked and lived there for the time being, or so she thought. She had put her family through enough of her bull shit she thought. Greta brought this man into her life and her family as well, it had affected them all, she felt guilty for what she had done. Cole might have been gone, but her blame still lingered. Still in a way, now that he was gone for good, she was free from his diseased grasp. She only had one man to thank, Brahms.

If it wasn't for him, or ever even showing up at the Heelshire Manor for that matter, would've never happened. In a way she was thankful, but still regretted ever encountering his true presence.

She took a sigh now looking out towards the field. She was on a small farm living with Malcom. He was kind enough for letting her live with him for time being. He was most grateful that she had save his life. That she came back, for him. He didn't know how to thank her enough, and he couldn't possibly turn her away after everything. He insisted she could stay for as long as she needed, she started to think he rather enjoyed her company very much. Greta really did like Malcom a lot; they both had a connection but she didn't know if she could see it flourishing.

Besides, a relationship was the last thing on her mind right now. There were times when they almost did it on her bed, but now as she thought back on it, she was rather lonely at the time. She couldn't see them getting married and having ki-

She stopped her thoughts fast at that word, she didn't want to think about children, not after her accident.

Greta had been starring out the window for some time now, wondering if she could ever go back to sleep. It was dark out, making the woods appear scary in the night. She could hear the rustling of the tree branches as the wind softly blew on them. An hour had passed now.

She didn't know how to tell Malcom this, but she did have to go back home. She had already booked a ticket, she'd be leaving in two days, and didn't have much time. Greta didn't want to face her sister and mother, but she felt home sick at the same time.

She would miss Malcom though dearly. She would miss being served breakfast, and going out for lovely walks, and nice dinners. He showed her an much as London as he could, considering he still had to go to work during the day. Maybe she'd come back and visit him, if he'd have her. She would never forget Malcom.

Suddenly her mind went to Brahms, she was sure he would be living in the mansion for the rest of his life. They never went to the police. Malcom wanted to, but Greta didn't. She didn't understand why, even though she kind of had a weird feeling in the back of her mind telling her not to go. If it was just Cole, it would have been different, but with Brahms, something just didn't feel right to her.

He'd probably had never been further than his front doors. Remembering when he screamed for her not to leave him, he never did leave the house to chase after her. She had come back, but not for him. Did he think she might come back for him? This thought confused her for a second, she didn't know what was going through his furious mind, but she had a feeling. Hurt, betrayed, angry, that she left him behind, just like everyone else.

Greta thought she might cry for a second, feeling pity on the beast. It upset her to think his parents wanted the people to believe he died in that nasty fire. All just for the sake of their reputation on what people thought of them and that there only son that was, odd. Thinking back to Malcom's words, 'odd' telling her that he was different from the rest. Greta knows now that he murdered a child just around his young age. A little girl, and she'll never know why he did what he did. Probably best if she didn't dwell on the sad story.

He would be cursed to live in the walls forever. Alone, and unloved. His parents had failed him miserably, just as he failed the both of them. He was too insane to comprehend his wrong doings.

Greta shifted her sitting position a bit ignoring the radiating numbness running down her thigh.

She thought if Brahms could ever be helped, redeemed from himself, or was it too late for him.

_Go back to the good boy._

If she were crazy, she actually thought about going back to save him from the unending walls. Her eyes shot open at her own thoughts; had she been going crazy? She almost laughed at herself, if she did ever go back, he'd probably want to hurt or even kill her just for leaving him in the first place. Greta had broken the rules, his stupid rules.

She rolled her eyes, knocking her head against the thin wall behind her. Why did it have to be this way?

_If you stayed, known of this would have happened. It would've been better for all of us._

Brahms was a lost soul. A man on the outside, and a child on the inside. If it wasn't his way, all hell broke loose with just the flick of his wrist. He forgets how strong he really is, with the mind of a child everything is all fun and games. She remembered hearing his real voice when he lost control of himself, because of her. Deep, dark, and sinister, as it flowed out easily do to his wrath.

What scared her most though was her thinking about Brahms.

It was getting late, and she started to yawn. It began to get a little chillier now. She held her blanket closer to her frame, and she stood up. Greta looked out the window one last time and into the woods from afar. It always looked so familiar, she felt like there were eyes watching her every move. She closed the window and locked it shut.

You never know who's watching from beyond the trees.


	2. Chapter 2: Lie To Me

**Hello! Know the movie like the back of your hands! Read carefully, and ENJOY! **

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The Boy 2: The Mask Of Beauty and Rage Chapter 2 – Lie To Me

Greta had awoken from her horrid nightmare. She couldn't sleep, her head was throbbing as she laid up. She yawned, dragging herself out the bed and into the bathroom. She was glad she had her own bathroom in the room. The day was brighter than any other day, it always rained in England, the weather was always so moist and warm most of the time. Finally, the sun was out and shining with life.

Greta brushed her teeth and got herself dressed. Seeping through the cracks of her door, she smelled the sweet aroma of breakfast coming from the main floor. Quickly she opened her curtains to let more light in, then she headed towards the door, making her way downstairs.

Malcom opened his fridge and pulled out another carton of eggs, along with some diced cantaloupe. The sizzling of the bacon spat out hot oil as it bubbled. Malcom set two plates out on the table along with the utensils. He got back to the bacon flipping it once more before tossing it onto the clean plate.

He looked to his side only to see Greta appear from around the corner.

"Ah, the princess has finally awakened." He chuckled. Greta smiled at his joke, and almost laughed at his dumb boyish charm.

"You know, you don't have to do this Malcom." She said putting her hands in her back pockets.

"It's my pleasure." He took the bacon and placed it on the table. "Come sit." He said leading her to the chair as she began to sit herself down.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked, about to get up from her seat again.

"All taken care of love, you don't need to worry about a thing." He smiled.

Greta returned the friendly gesture. "You know I can't remember the last time someone cooked just for me." She gave a small nervous laugh.

Malcom walked towards her with the eggs in the searing hot pan. She automatically leaned back letting him put the scramble eggs on her plate, and the rest onto his. Malcom knew she didn't have anywhere near a good relationship in the past with that bloody chap, Cole. He could only imagine what went on in their household. He quickly everted the conversation.

"You know it has its benefits working as a grocery boy." He picked up a piece of egg on his fork as he looked at her happily. "Free food." He smiled popping the egg in his mouth.

Greta breathed out a small giggle at his facial expression.

She put some salt on her eggs and dug into her food. Malcom glanced up every once and awhile to see her face. He didn't want to make it obvious of course, but Greta could feel his eyes lingering onto her. Malcom cleared his throat.

"So… I believe you slept well last night?" He asked as he sat up straighter. Greta noticed this and did the same, but took a short sigh.

"Well…. it could've been better, I mean…" She stopped for a moment.

Malcom's face grew concerned, and worried a bit at her sudden change. He had a feeling he knew what was going on with her, and he hoped he was wrong.

"You had another one of those ghastly nightmares, didn't you?"

Greta looked up at him now. "Yeah, I did. I'm always…. running… in my dreams. I can never seem to just settle." She said taking a hold of the orange juice and sipping it.

Malcom's eyes dishearten a bit as he looked at her.

"It was about him again, wasn't it?"

Greta almost choked on her OJ as she gagged a bit. Her hand reached on her throat and then chest, trying to catch her breath.

"What? No- well I mean… yes, he was there." She said quickly.

"Look, I understand what you're going through, but you know, you don't have to be afraid." He said calmly.

Greta didn't respond to him as she looked down at her food. Suddenly feeling a firm hand connect with her small one, Greta's eyes shot up.

"You're safe here." His gentle voice comforted her. For the first time in a long time, Greta didn't feel alone in this very moment. She gave him a small meaningful smile looking back down trying not to show a blush of any kind.

"He's gone." Malcom's words echoed in her mind. Yes, he was gone, she killed him. She didn't mean to, she was desperate to get away from the insanity, but why didn't it feel right? Something was off, it felt like he never left, that maybe he still walks the Earth. She stabbed him, he clasped to the floor in agony. Why did it feel like he was still here? Greta felt confused at her own questions, she pushed them aside.

"Thank you, Malcom." She said gratefully. Malcom released her hand and went back to his food in satisfaction.

"Now, eat up! You don't want the food to spoil, now do we?" He said cheerfully.

Greta ate the rest of her food across from him. They both finished at the same time, Greta quickly grabbed both their plates and headed for the sink. Malcom had done enough she thought, she wanted to return the favor somehow. Turning the fossette on, she began to thoroughly clean the dishes.

"You know I have a dishwasher, right?" He asked, putting the eggs away in the fridge. Greta grinned towards him then looked back down to the plates at hand.

"It's the least I could do around here."

Malcom's face went down a bit, thinking back to just a few minutes ago, about their brief conversation, on him. She had been dreaming of Brahms a lot, ever since their true encounter. Was that man all she ever thought about as the day's past? He snorted to himself, what was he talking about? You can't control what goes on in your own dreams. Even though he knew he'd recently had encountered some dreams involving her, particularly being very close to him. Bollocks, he thought, pushing that thought aside fast in the back of his mind. He had thought about her more than anything, he was beginning to think maybe it was too much. He couldn't control it, she was just so, kind-hearted to his eyes. She wasn't like the other women here in England, considering she was from the Americas, they acted different from the English. Soon he released he was staring at her cute frame. He stopped himself fast, shaking his head slightly, as he shut the fridge door.

"I don't suppose you would like to go for a ride into town with me?" He said folding his hands behind his back.

"Sure." She said cheerfully. Taking ahold of the naps drying her hands. "Where to?" she asked, tossing it in the garbage.

"Just need to run a few quick errands is all. Maybe pick up a movie on the way back?" He asked shrugging his shoulders.

"Well that just sounds lovely." She said mimicking his English accent giving him an embarrassed laugh.

"You should work on that accent of yours, Miss Evans." He said with a smirk before heading off down the hallway.

Greta smiled to herself as she dried the plates and carefully put them away, along with the rest of the food laying out. Opening up one of the cabinets to find where the glass cups were stored. A jar of peanut butter caught her attention from one of the opened cupboards. She stared at it; her smile slowly vanished. A peanut-butter and jelly sandwich were pictured in her mind, her favorite food. She could hear humming from a young child. He made her favorite food; he knew what she liked to eat most. Greta started to feel overwhelmed for some reason, she shut the cabinets fast with both hands along with the humming. The room went quiet, she only heard her breathing now. She turned and leaned back on the counter with her hand on her forehead.

"Hey are you about ready to get going?!" Her head jolted up in a fright from his shout down the hall.

"Yeah, um... just give me a minute." She exhaled with her hand on her chest. She had to get ready now, not wanting to keep Malcom waiting any longer. Greta dropped everything that she was doing and made her way upstairs to grab her belongings. She needed to get out of the house for a bit, she thought fresh air would do her some good.

She got out of his car, the town was small it wasn't big like London at all, not even close. She could tell everyone knew each other around here, so when there was a new face in town, people always started asking questions.

Greta could see his grocery shop just down the street on the corner. They'd probably stop there afterwards, when Malcom was done with his errands, she thought. The sun felt warm on her face. Malcom extended his arm out offering her to hold onto him. Greta was taken back, before smiling as she gladly accepted his arm. They walked together down the other end of the street reaching the tiny movie shop. He opened the door letting her in first, then followed.

"You guys still have a place to just rent movies?" She asked in astonishment. Thinking back to when she was younger, she and her sister were always going to blockbusters to pick out their favorite movies. Then they would always fight for the TV, and who got to play their pick of movie first. She laughed inside at the fond innocent memories that she could still remember from her childhood.

"Well of course, if this place ever went out of business…... well I'd probably just have to kill myself." He said in a sad but funny tone. Greta hit his shoulder at his stupid joke giving him a sly grin, he chuckled at her response.

Greta began to walk further into the store. It was old, and run down but still had a great selection of movies to choose from. She was scanning them quickly with her finger. Suddenly Malcom walked up beside her.

"How about this one." Placing it directing in front of her. "A movie of horror, with a dash of nudity to keep us slightly entertained." He smirked. Greta snatched the movie from him and laughed sarcastically.

"Is that all you men ever think about? Besides, I thought you were a gentleman?" She asked looking up at him. He then leaned down close to her face.

"Only when I desire to be." He said seductively with a raised brow. Greta puckered her lips slightly and raised her eyebrows as well. She snorted a bit at him. Shoving the movie back against his chest, as he backed up trying to catch it before it fell.

"Horror, is the LAST thing on my mind right now." She turned back to the movie collection.

"Call me when you got something funny." She said waving him away.

Malcom smiled at this; this was the most he'd ever seen Greta so content. She needed this he thought, they both needed this. Maybe they needed each other he thought with hope. To finally have found someone as lovely as her. That they may become more one day. Malcom glanced at a movie and picked it up. He cleared his throat, catching her attention.

"An American classic." He flipped it over to the cover side. "Dumb and, might I even say, Dumber." He beamed.

"Perfect." She said rolling her eyes.

Malcom walked up to the register, to rent the movie.

"Oi mate, I'll take this one here." She heard him say as she exited the store. She crossed her arms looking out into the streets. Greta could see people sitting outside of small restaurants drinking their daily tea, and eating their tiny crumpets. How much tea can you drink, she thought? Malcom must have fed her at least a gallon of green tea in just a day. Hearing the door open she turned to see Malcom handing her the movie. She took the small bag from him, putting it in her strap over purse.

"Tea?" He asked her. Greta looked up with a hesitant look on her face.

"Uh- no thank you, not right now anyways. It's a little early."

Malcom looked down at his watch but didn't say anything. He'd have his tea when he returned home with her. Greta already started walking back the way they came; Malcom woke up from his thoughts and followed her trying to reach her side.

"Are we stopping by your work?" She asked glancing back at him.

"If you'd wouldn't mind?" He said guiding her back with his hand to cross the street.

"Not at all, plus I'll finally get to see the place." She said jumping onto the sidewalk.

Malcom followed her from behind. They finally reached the corner and headed inside. It was big inside, bright, with lively colors attracting customers. The color green laid everywhere, with flowers consisting of different hues. This was probably the most updated place in the whole town.

"I'll be right back." Malcom took his leave to the back area, as Greta nodded her head in acknowledgment. She glanced around, smelling the fruits and veggies. Everything was so clean, and fresh. She wondered how long Malcom had been working here. It was a nice place to work in, even though she wouldn't mind it, if it paid well anyways.

Greta saw pictures on the wall, she walked over to them to get a closer look. Seeing Malcom himself and his co-workers, she smiled at the joy in the pleasant photos. Continuing his way down her eyes stop immediately at a family photo. The Heelshire's, she thought? Alongside them was a young well-dressed Brahms. This must've been years ago when this was first taken. Behind them was a sign that said 'Grand Opening'. She took another look at the young Brahms, he looked even younger here than in the other photos she saw of him in the attic. He looked so handsome in his tiny tux, she thought, sad. It was amazing the different childhoods they had, he was proper, and she was open. Greta still pondered why their photo was up here, as she raised a brow.

Malcom came back through the doors quickly. Greta's body jumped at the sound of the squeaky doors. He saw she was near the photos.

"Ah, I see you're admiring the photos." He said making his way over to her side.

"Not all of them." She said whispered turning back. Malcom was confused by her phrasing. He looked over to where her eyes laid, and realized what she was referring to. He nodded his head in understanding.

"You know, it's because of them this place even exists, Greta." He said softly. He caught Greta's attention fast as her head turned to his.

"Really? Well, what do you mean?" She asked curiously, fully facing him.

"Greta, my father, owned this place because of the Heelshire's money. He gardens their flowers, and planted food, he worked for them for many years." He paused for a moment, but Greta urged him to continue his story.

"Well long story short, my father wanted to start a business in town just selling his own produce. But we didn't have the money to start. The Heelshire's heard about our little problem, and decided to loan us some money. Father protested, but Mr. Heelshire insisted him to take it, not only for himself, but because they sought to see my father's food flourish." He took a breath.

"A man's pride, well… my father of course the good man that he was, he paid them back little by little. I was around the age of ten at the time, and helped my father bring the groceries into their home every week. I remember seeing Brahms, he always turned a corner fast when he saw new faces. He was a shy boy and as we already know, odd." Malcom stopped to look at the picture of him and his father sitting in front of the store.

"Then he got sick." He took his time. "He left us seventeen years ago today." His voice was calm, but blue.

"What happened to him?" Greta asked trying to remain strong for her friend.

"He uh- died of a weak heart. After mother left, it all went downhill from there. It took a strain on all of us." He sniffed looking away from the photo.

"But there was still a debt to be paid, so I took over the business. I continued to deliver the food to the Heelshire's from that day forth." He said shrugging his shoulders pacing over to the windows.

Greta was left speechless for a moment. She couldn't believe what had happened to him. She wanted to speak, or just say anything to make him feel better. She was lost for words.

"You know it's funny, at that time Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire lost a son and I lost my parents. I had the silliest idea as a child that they would take me in, considering the unfortunate events of what happened to both of us. They never did though, turns out they were still taking care of their son at the time-" He stopped himself.

Greta thought about his words as she processed them carefully. She ceased though for a moment. She walked towards his side.

"Malcom, I can't begin to tell you… how sorry I am for your loss." She took a breath. "But look how far you've come." Her voice sounded of hope. He looked at her now.

"You were just a young boy who was strong enough to take on your father's beloved business. And you made it turn out great, not only for yourself, but for him too. He would've been proud of you." She smiled rubbing his arm.

Malcom's heart skipped a beat at her soothing touch. He smiled, feeling thankful had her by his side.

"Thank you." He whispered. Greta beamed a bit of light as she walked to the door taking her leave, as he followed her from behind.

Malcom had driven around town, and on the bright sunny roads. The trees blew in the soft winds, as the leaves fell to the ground. Greta looked out the window towards the vast farm lands. She saw riders riding their horses on the side of the streets. Gorgeous purebred stallion horses galloped gracefully following one another. It's not every day you get to see a live horse in person, she thought. Malcom saw her fascination towards the stallions, and chuckled to himself.

"You know, I never did ask you about your father." He glanced at her then back to the road. "You always spoke so fondly of your sister, and mother." He caught Greta's full attention.

"Well, actually I never knew my father." She said rather quickly. Malcom noticed this.

"Oh, well… I'm very sorry to hear that." He said tenderly. "Did you at least ever get to see what he looked like?" Greta thought about it for a moment.

"No, my mom never had any photos of the man around." She paused. "Now that I think about it, I don't ever recall her ever mentioning him to me, or even my sister." Her face went serious as she thought about that. Why didn't her mother ever talk about her birth father?

"Well I'm sure she had her reasons." He said understandingly. Greta took a quick glimpse at him.

"Yeah, I mean…, we were just the three musketeers in my family." She said jokingly. Malcom laughed at this as he continued to drive up the road. She remembered as a kid never seeing any photos of men laying around the house. Not one. Growing up in just a household of women was good for her, but maybe that was why Greta had such poor choices in men. She never had a father figure in her life, she never got to see a truly strong male role model. Teaching her right from wrong, what to find in a man. Never stoop lower, to always aim higher and better yourself, she never got that daddy's little girl time. It was a pity, she thought, but she can't just assume he was a good man, everyone is different. For all she knew the man could've been just like Cole. She shuddered at that thought, she hated Cole, she might even say she loathed him. After he put her through hell, she would do anything to get away from an abusive man.

The road began to get bumpy as Malcom turned up his driveway. Greta snapped out of her thoughts from the feeling. Pulling up in front of his house his brakes squealed loudly as he came to a complete stop, and put the car in park. Turning off the car they took their leave. Greta got out and shut the door as Malcom did the same.

"It's getting dark now." He said walking up his wooden porch. Greta followed him to the door. A shiver went down her spine from the chilly breeze. She crossed her arms. Malcom noticed and embraced her into his arms fast in a playing motion.

"I'll save from this dreadfully cold weather!" He shouted in a joking way. Greta laughed as he held her close, pulling her towards the door. "If this blasted key will work!" He struggled putting in the key.

"The zombies are coming!" She hollered with a hand next to her mouth.

"Oh well I'm sorry love, but we would've already been dead by now." He laughed aloud, as Greta did the same. "You know I could picture you hacking off zombies!" Finally, he succeeded and opened the creaky door. She walked in first blowing hot air into her hands.

"I'll get started on that fire." He said aloud walking down the hall to the living room. Greta nodded but already noticed he was gone. She removed her scarf and jacket. She walked towards the kitchen and set on some tea, knowing Malcom would greatly appreciate it.

Malcom was in the living room throwing wood into the fire place as it slowly raised. He glanced behind him to see if Greta was in the room, she wasn't. He quickly went to a desk in the next room and opened it quickly. Retrieving a small box from the drawer. He opened it and looked at it with a smile. He hoped Greta would like this.

"Do you like honey with your tea Malcom?!" She shouted from the kitchen. Malcom got startled by her loud voice almost dropping it.

"Uh- Yes! Of course." He said back, as he put the box in his side pocket. He threw off his jacket, laying it on the chair. He turned heading out the small office room, and shut the doors. Greta had emerged from around the corner with the tea. Malcom smiled as he took his cup from her and sipped it with passion.

"Now, about that movie?" He asked. Greta pulled it out from her side like a weapon. He took it from her and placed it into the machine. Greta took her seat on the couch, soon Malcom joined her, not sitting too close to her though. He wanted to give her room to herself, and not smother her. Not yet anyways. The movie was played.

They had been half-way through the movie now. Greta laughed at the dumb jokes, as Malcom smiled at her giggles. He felt the box still sitting peacefully in his pocket. He wanted to give it to her badly. He was waiting for the right time, she was happy, she wasn't sad or thinking of her past dreams. Maybe now would be the perfect time, he thought. Malcom shifted his sitting position as he tried not making it too obviously, he got closer to her. He took a shaky breath. Malcom was not a man of becoming anxious, but at this moment he was and it scared him. He tried to relax himself, as he glanced at her and opened his mouth slowly.

"Greta?" He said softly.

"Hmm?" She hummed without using her words in response.

"I was actually meaning to give you something, these past few days." He caught Greta's serious yet intrigued consideration. She paused the movie and turned her body to face him putting both her legs up on the couch. Malcom turned more as well to meet her face to face.

"I uh-" He pulled the small box from his pocket. "I saw this in town, and I thought you might like it." He handed it to her carefully. He would've opened it for her, but decided she might like it better if she opened her own gift.

Greta's eyes extended at the velvet box. He actually bought her something, she thought. She opened the box cautiously, removing the top. She looked at its shiny clear stone. She picked it up by the silver chain so they could both see it.

"You don't strike me and someone who would wear gold." He said scratching his head.

It was a clear teardrop crystal necklace, on a thin silver chain. It sparkled in the light of the fire.

"Oh Malcom-" She paused. "I can't accept this." She said putting it back in the box with a down look on her face.

"Sure, you can. I insist." He said sweetly taking her hand to stop her from closing the box. "A little gift from me, to you."

Greta smiled as she looked back to get a better look. "Take a closer look on the back." He pointed. Greta flipped the stone seeing the silver part on the back reading her name and a small heart next to it.

"You got it inscribed?" She asked in a surprise tone. He smiled. Greta couldn't believe the thoughtful gift he had given her. She was in shock and was flattered as the same time. It really was pretty, she thought. Suddenly Greta remembered her gold necklace she had lost in the mansion. She never saw it again; it was a gift given to her on her 7th birthday. She loved it more than anything, but now it was gone forever.

"Here." He extended his hand out. "May I?" Greta woke up as she quickly handed him the necklace. Malcom urged her to face the other way. She complied with his request as she turned. Malcom gently moved aside her smooth hair. He carefully placed the necklace around her neck. Greta straightened her back, not meaning to show her curves. Malcom's eyes glanced down her back as he swallowed hard. She turned to face him, as she looked down at the necklace around her neck.

"Absolutely radiant." He said in a low tone. Greta was grateful for his meaningful gift, she only wished she could offer him something in return.

"Thank you." She said looking down bashfully. She could feel Malcom move closer to her now. As the couch shifted from his heavyweight. His face was close to her now, he looked at her with easy eyes, but Greta didn't reciprocate. She could feel his lips near hers.

"Malcom…." She whispered. "It's getting late." Right there he got the hint. His heart felt like a bullet had just pierced through his heart. He shouldn't have assumed she wanted the same as him.

"Forgive me." He breathed. "I just wanted to feel your lips on mine again." He took a sigh as he had risen from his seat to take his leave. Greta felt selfish for a second. She hadn't told him she was leaving in just two days. Greta had to be honest, she couldn't bear to tell him the truth after receiving the heartwarming gift. The kiss, why didn't she want to return the gesture? She thought maybe this could grow, but something was holding her back. Her body didn't respond to his as it once did in the past. At the time it felt exquisite but now she wasn't sure. She quickly stood up.

"It not that I don't like you Malcom, I do, more than anything. You've become very important to me. And I don't want to ruin that…. I'm sorry." She said desperately. "I just- "

"You don't have to explain Greta." He whispered cutting her off. "I understand." He turned again to exit the room. Greta had to say it now or it'd be too late.

"Malcom I'm leaving in two days." She said aloud. He stopped dead in his tracks. Malcom confronted her with a look of shock.

"So soon? When were you planning on sharing?" He asked with a crack in his voice.

"I didn't know how; I mean we've been having such a great time and… I didn't want to ruin that." Malcom glanced around the room at a loss of words.

"I'll come back soon to visit!" She said quickly with a bit of hope in her face. He looked like he wanted to say something, anything just to keep him from clasping.

"Greta I-" I love you. "I-"

"You have been so good to me, I can't possible thank you enough." She smiled. Malcom took her hand.

"Then stay, just a little longer. For me?" He whispered. "I know you miss your family, but just stay a little longer."

Greta thought about reconsidering. Maybe she could grow to love this wonderful man. He was everything Cole wasn't, and it was hard to come by. She didn't need to go back just yet; family wasn't going anywhere. She lifted her head with joy.

"Ok. I'll stay." Malcom's face lit up. He wouldn't mess up this time on telling her how he truly feels. But not now, he was too pleased by her choosing to stay with him for a little while longer.

Greta took a shaky breath and kissed him softly on the cheek. Malcom closed his eyes at her friendly gesture. She embraced him for a hug that he gladly accepted from her.

"Thank you." She softly said in his ear.

"Your welcome." He breathed. She released her hold small on him, as he did the same. It was night time now, and she was tired.

"Goodnight, Greta."

"Goodnight Malcom."

_Goodnight Brahms._

_I knew Brahms as a child._

_If it wasn't for the Heelshire's I wouldn't be where I was today._

_I lost my father._

_I thought you might like this._

_You're safe here._

_I thought they'd accept me as their own._

_Brahms was still being taken care of at the time._

_Brahms is alive._

_Brahms…._

_Greta…._

She gasped aloud as she had awoken once again. The words echoed in her dreams over and over, from yesterday's conversation with Malcom.

Brahms, she thought back to yesterday of what he told her in the store. He talked about Brahms, about his family. She tried to keep her head focused. He said they were still taking care of their son at the time. Then he abruptly stopped talking she noticed. What? She thought to herself, what was she concluding to? That somehow, he already knew Brahms was never killed in the fire at the time he was young? Or did he mean when they first saw Brahms together, as he emerged from the walls.

Greta's face dropped a bit at the thought. She jumped off the bed, pacing back and forth frantically. Even if he did know, he would've told her there was a deranged man within the walls of the home. He wouldn't keep her or put her in any type of danger. Right?

She thought back a little further this time. Greta closed her eyes. She saw Cole screaming, as his temper got the best of him. Malcom shouting at him to leave. She held the doll with fear, and was determined to protect it. Everything was so loud it hurt. Cole snatched the doll from her arms. She cried and begged for him to stop as she screamed. She felt a connection to the lost soul of the child. She couldn't stand to let Cole be near him. He swung the doll round, and round. She begged him to stop. Cole didn't care, he never cared about anything but himself. Brahms had risen into the air by Coles deathly hands, smashing it to pieces as it met the unforgivably hard wooden chair. She screamed in agony.

She continued to think back carefully.

The walls began to shake vigorously, as the lights flickered losing light. She thought it might've been an earthquake, but it was something much worse. Loud bangs connect with the walls, shuddering, moving the pictures out of place. Dust could be seen falling from the walls, as it vibrated. It ceased at the mirror.

Cole had approached the old mirror; the bangs had ended. It was quiet. Suddenly an explosion happened. His body was flown back with such force. Shards of deathly broken glass flew through the air. She was scared to death by the scene. She knelt down to Cole, but stopped half-way seeing a dark figure. It was massive she remembered; it didn't even look real. She didn't know what she was looking at. Its hands came out like snakes as it slithered its way out to the light.

"It's Brahms."

The whole world stopped around Greta. Her eyes shot open wide with terror. Her heart sank to the very depths of her body. She couldn't support her own weight. She clasped backwards hitting her back against the mirror and dresser in the room. Desperately trying to grab a hold of anything. Items fell off the top, and hit the floor hard, as Greta's body had fallen too.

He knew. How did he know?

How did Malcom know that man was the real Brahms? It could've been anyone, but how could he have known what Brahms looked like as an adult? He made it seem like he only knew him as a child before passing away. She was breathing heavily now at the terrible thought.

Malcom knew Brahms was alive the whole time. Her heart was broken, and fear began to consume her again. He knew, and he let her stay there, alone. Greta had her hand over her heart, she tried to take control of her breathing. She stared at the door that lead downstairs.

All the walls seemed to have been closing around her.

She had never come down for breakfast. Malcom had left for work earlier. Greta couldn't rap head around this whole situation. How could he do this to her? Had he really played her for a fool? She started to feel annoyed by her own stupidity. She thought she could trust him. That he was a kind and decent man, thinking she had finally found a friend to confide in for the first time. So many questions had been running through her mind. The stress would kill her and she knew it was just a matter of time before her would break. Greta opened the window to let in the air, she thought she might suffocate from breathing the same dreadful air surrounding the room. She needed a shower, she needed to rethink her approach as she walked into the bathroom. Getting undressed, tossing her clothes to the side. Greta let the water warm up. She had her hands on the sink arching her body forward. The pressure was getting to her as she tried to remain strong. Greta thought she might cry soon. He said his name, Brahms.

Greta screamed and grunted in anger throwing whatever she could grab ahold of. She hit the walls and cursed his name. She was sobbing as she jumped into the shower now. The water was steaming hot, but she felt no pain, for the pain was eating her inside. Greta had to say something to him, she didn't think she was mistaken by her memory, but still wanted to be sure. It played like a broken record over and over in her head. She could see and hear everything.

It's Brahms.

She leaned against the wall, sliding her body down to the wet floor. Her drenched hair connects to her face and neck. Greta needed the truth. She needed to make sure, she could've been horribly wrong, but prayed she wasn't right.

Greta had been sitting in the living room on a large chair. She had her phone in her hands, glancing at it every once and awhile to check the time. It was almost ten. She mentally prepared herself and thought of what she was actually going to say. She didn't want to get stomped by her own frantic words. Greta knew better though then to go crazy, she wanted to make sure, and she hoped she was wrong.

He knew Brahms was there.

She could hear the car pull up.

Letting him touch you at night.

The footsteps came closer to the door.

Watching you sleep.

The key had turned the knob.

Brahms had been there with you.

He had entered.

All these years.

"Hey sorry I'm late! Work was bonkers today!" He said aloud. He noticed there wasn't a response. Walking to the next room he came across Greta.

"Ah! There you are, why isn't the light on in here?" He asked turning on the lamp.

"You never came down for breakfast, I thought you might've taken ill." He said with a slight worry in his voice. He turned to smile at her, only to see an expressionless Greta. She hadn't moved from her seating position. She only looked down at her phone.

"What's wrong?" He asked coming up next to her. Malcom knelt down on his knees next to her seat. He looked up at her with concern and misperception laid in his eyes. "Hey…" He whispered.

Greta wanted to speak, she did, she just couldn't find the right words. She looked down at him, she couldn't believe this man would do this to her. Her friend. She cared for him so much, she saved him.

"You remember that night." It wasn't a question; she knew he already knows what she's referring to. "Yes, of course." He said delicately. Greta took a breath.

"That day it happened, when he came out from the walls." She paused controlling her unstable feelings.

"How did you know he was Brahms?" She whispered. Malcom was taken back as his eyes dilated.

"What? You must be mistaken I- how could've I had known he was alive?" He said shrugging his shoulders.

"I never said he was alive. That man could've been anyone, so why the hell would you say his name?" She brows knitted together now. She wanted an answer.

"This is madness Greta. You must be ill." He got up abruptly walking away from her. Greta stood up fast too. She wasn't done with him.

"Is it? I mean think about it, Brahms died as a child, you said it yourself you saw him when he was a young child!"

"Is he all you ever talk about?!" He shouted back.

"How could you have possibly known what he looks like now as an adult?!" She asked desperately. Malcom kept his back to her with his head bent down as his hands laid on his hips. The room went silent. The two didn't say anything for a moment. Malcom couldn't show her his face now.

"You knew…... didn't you?" She whispered. Malcom couldn't face her; he couldn't let her see him. He felt so weak. His hand went over his mouth as he took a shaky breath. Greta needed an answer, she needed him to face her like a man.

"How could you?" Her voice was filled with disappointment. He turned slowly to face her. Tears came down his once strong face.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, shaking his head. Greta felt like blood was draining from her ears as she heard his words. She was right, she hoped she was wrong, but it turns out her distress came true. Greta began to slowly back away.

"Greta you don't understand. I never meant for any of this to happen." He cried. "They needed a housekeeper, a nanny, to take care of the bastard! I didn't know it was going to be you." Greta felt baffled by his words.

"I would never let any harm fallen upon you Greta-"

"You already did! You let me stay there, alone, knowing he was there!" She hollered. She put her hands-on head.

"Forgive me, I knew… yes I admit that now- and I should've told you!" He paused. "But I wanted no part of their madness." He waited for her to say something. Greta was at a loss, she felt betrayed by her friend. He lied to her, right in front of her face. She took the bait he had been giving her all this time. The moment when he acted surprised to see the doll move, he thought it was just a magic trick. He knew full well it was no trick.

"So, is this why you've been wanting me to stay… cooking me meals, watching movies, buying me off with trinkets!?" She said frantically trying to catch her breathe. "Why?" Malcom's body felt frail, his face pleaded for her forgiveness.

"I love you Greta." She breathed out a laugh as she rubbed her face in disbelief. He knew it wouldn't do any good at this point saying those words to her. It wasn't how he wanted to tell her; he was in a frenzie.

"Yes I know, but I have gotten to know you so well, and I-" He stopped as he walked up to her. "I didn't want to be a part of any of this." He whispered.

"Because you saw the outcome, of the burden you would have to carry with you everywhere you went." She began to walk away from him, and out the room. Malcom followed like a puppy.

"Greta please I did this for you. I didn't want you to have more stress." Malcom was desperate for her to understand. "I felt terrible-"

"So, you pity me? Is that it? Is it because you feel guilty?!" She shouted with skepticism as she glanced back, she began to go up the stairs.

"Greta can't we just talk?" He hollered looking up from the bottom of the staircase.

"No, we can't talk!" She turned to him from mid-way up the staircase. Her face was filled with wretchedness. She was forlorn, and did the best thing a woman can do, leave.

"It seems I have overstayed my welcoming." She said with dryness in her throat.

Malcom's eyes swelled with anguish as he beamed up towards her stilled position. This was it she thought, she mislaid someone she genuinely cared about. She twisted her body slowly, resuming to climb up the rest of the stairs. The hurt was back, and it didn't feel right. His chest sunk into remorse. He sat down on the bottom of the staircase. His face held emotion, of guilt and repentance. He rubbed his face with his hands as he breathed in deeply.

Greta shut the door as she leaned her back against it. If Greta had hope this would end, she was to be sadly disillusioned. She had been played for fool. She wanted nothing more than to get away. An escape from reality, just for a little, letting her own imagination take her away. Greta saw a life for her, were she was authentically happy with herself, her life. Even with her family, if she had never met Cole at that bar, how different her life would've turned out. She would've probably never even thought about coming to England, she would be stayed home, safe. With her family and friends, the people who loved her most of all. It's been so long, Greta thought she might've forgotten what love really feels like anymore. Would it even be the same feeling again for her? Or would it be different this time? Missing the days of being an innocent child, hidden from the real world and its cruel intentions. As a child they are blind and can only see the good in things, when in genuineness they are depraved. She felt a chill crawl down her spine. Her eyes shot towards the open window. The curtains danced in the breeze; the room was dark she had just noticed. The only light that remained was from the bright moon. Greta paced herself to the window, she couldn't recall opening it this wide, she shut it closed and locked it. She left the drapes open. She had to go back home now; she didn't have anywhere else to go. There was nothing felt in England for her, not anymore. At the same time, she thought, what now? Go back to a normal everyday life. Work, responsibilities, boring everyday life. On the other hand, she was free, to do what she pleased.

Her mind found its way to Brahms, she would never see him again. Never have to deal with his insane child-like mind or taking care of that stupid doll. That was good she convinced herself, still wondering if he could be help. She thought about the mansion and walking up those steps one last time. The house was beautiful, such a waste. It had layers of depressing and a dysfunctional history written within its thick walls, that no one else would ever know about. The house would sit there for the rest of its days collecting dust, and remain forever alone. Besides, after everything that had happened, or what she told herself. Brahms was dead.

Greta walked towards the mirror looking at her face. She would be ok. After everything that happen. She would get through this; Greta was a strong woman. It was time to go home.

She gave herself a small meaningful smile in the lovely reflection. Greta looked down to open her drawer, pulling out a ticket to her home town. It wouldn't be long now before she saw her family. She was thrilled. She closed the drawer and looked back into the mirror.

Her face became froze. As a dark figure was behind her in the reflection. Its face was lifeless as it stood tall over her. Her heart stopped at the sight. Her brain didn't register, she tried to speak. Her expression was unresponsive. Greta was in a state of pure shock. Her hears started to ring, the room was getting warmer. His cracked mask shined in the moon light seeping through the open window. Her mouth opened slightly as her eyes stared into his through the large mirror. His breathing deepened. Greta was about to scream for Malcom as her mouth opened. Brahms lunged at her with his hand covering her mouth hard and the other held tightly around her waist. He pulled her close to him. Then all she saw was black.

_He came back to you, pretty Greta._


	3. Chapter 3 - Kidnapped

**Hello and thank you for your patience! I enjoyed writing this part, the craziness will come out now of the man hidden behind the mask. Comment and ENJOY!**

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Flickering of the lights came in and out of vision. The air was stale, and scathe to the touch of the lungs. Strength had its hold on her fragile body. Guided by a malevolent soul. Firm hands on her sides hoisted her up like a bride. Her neck and head dangled in the air drifting in and out of consciousness. Heavy footsteps made their way down the old halls. Her eyes refused to open, as her mind was in a daze. She had now entered the depths that lay within these swallow walls. The breathing had increased dramatically to her ears. She heard something, but she didn't know what it was exactly. All she could think of was one genuinely happy moment from her past. She was home, safe, away from the chaos. She felt as light as an angel flying on heavenly wings. Her body soon collided with the unforgivingly cold bitter feeling of insensibility, as it spread rapidly throughout her body. There was only black now. It was just a matter of time before she would awake in solitude.

Greta's body jolted awake; her eyes shot open with trepidation as she looked around gasping for air. Feeling the hard-wooden floor beneath her as it roughly grazed her fingertips. There wasn't any light for her to see her surroundings clearly. Her heart was pounding against her chest from nervousness and fright. She couldn't remember what happened, or how she even got here in the first place. Greta began to pick herself up as she extended her arm out trying to touch anything that might lie ahead. Quickly connecting with another hard surface, she began to knock on it. It didn't sound hollow, she must've been somewhere deep, and away from civilization. She continued to knock as she paced her way down. Reaching a corner as she stumbled back a bit in surprise but continued. It all sounded the same, it was like she was in a box. She stopped and put her hands on her head and breathed out a funny noise. It was almost like a laugh; she couldn't believe she was trapped here. Where the hell was she, she thought. She had a great sense that she knew this place, and its dreadful feeling lingered onto her carelessly. Suddenly it hit her, she'd hoped it wasn't true. She gasped with her hand over her mouth trying not to scream. It couldn't have been. She thought it was just another dream when she saw him in her reflection. This felt so real, the atmosphere was dreadful. She can feel and smell her surroundings, unlike a dream, but at this point she wished it had been.

Brahms kidnapped her, brought her back. She tried so hard to get away, but now she was back at square one. Why did he bring her back? How did he find her? She thought Brahms never left the manor, so many questions raced through her mind. Greta knew he'd come back soon and see that she'd awaken. She didn't want to know what he had in store for her when he returns.

"I have to get out of here." She muttered to herself. She knew there wouldn't be an easy way out if this, after all she had been kidnapped by a deranged man-child. She knew this, and she didn't want to stick around any longer to find out his true intentions.

She looked around closely again as she squinted her eyes, reuniting with the walls that surrounded her. Suddenly feeling a small indentation, was this a door, she thought. There was a handle, she immediately grabbed it and began to turn it. Locked of course, she gritted her teeth with frustration. She abruptly bangs both her hands on the door in annoyance, giving off a thundering echo.

Her eyes widened at the sound; it was a hollow sound. She must've been between the walls for sure now. There had to be another way out. Unaware there had been a tiny hole that caught the corner of Greta's eye. Her brows knitted together as she cautiously went over to approach it. She looked in it carefully, only to see the next wall, but there was the faintest bit of light seeping through. She began to push on the hole with the palm of her hands. She tried to break it or make it bigger. She stopped from a sharp pain that was being created. She began grow vexed as she abruptly kicked the wall hard forgetting the pain ever existed. She breathed out in determination to break its hold. Suddenly her foot along with her leg fell through as she lost her balance.

Her leg was out on the other side. She exhaled with relief. The broken chunks of old wood fell with a thud, echoing down the hall. Astonished at herself that she had actually broken through without a scratch amazed her. Greta knelt down as she carefully crawled through the hole. Pulling her body through fully she made it out. She stumbled to get up but managed. She quickly looked from left to right. It was just as she remembered it from her previous visit. She leaned forward a bit as she started to walk cautiously. Where the hell was he, she thought. She stayed close to the wall as she came to a turn. Her body connected closely with the wall. Greta took a peek around the corner but saw nothing. She tried to remember the way out. It was like a giant maze, there were so many layers of long halls.

Greta decided to take the turn. It was quiet, too quiet perhaps. He was good at staying still and keeping a low profile. Greta remained calm as she continued the long walk. Not realizing there was a man not too far behind.

Greta thought this might take forever, she was running out of time. He'd probably kill her if he saw her trying to escape, again. This wouldn't end well, she decided to pick up her pace. Determination was written on her face. Soon coming up onto another turn she took her pick and turned. Stopping in her tracks she saw the 'Kiss Goodnight'.

She was near Brahm's room, his adult room, that laid deep beneath the manor. Greta proceeded to walk towards the old sign. She stared at it, memories began to flow in like water, drowning her mind in thoughts. That cold, lifeless, bitter kiss, she couldn't bring herself to relive it again. She shook her head and turned away as she remembered where his room was. She hoped he wasn't in there, then maybe she could reach the door that lead upstairs. She emerged through the broken wall with caution. Careful with every step she proceeded to make on the cluttered floor, desperately trying to not make an alarming sound.

Greta had finally made it in, and thankfully there was no sight of him anywhere but only her in the room. She sighed with relief, but quickly vanished, she knew he was in the house somewhere. Greta decided to move a bit faster as she reached for the old wooden stairs. She ascended without hesitation; eagerness overcame her as she reached the top. Taking a hold of the handle as she tried to turn it.

"Shit." She muttered in frustration as it wouldn't open, like everything else in the house, she thought. She couldn't take this, she backed up on the staircase. Thinking maybe she could break her way through. If she had a good amount of speed, she could launch her body into it and bring down the door. She backed up slowly trying not to fall backwards.

Greta ceased as her eyes caught a being through the open staircase. Her heart started to hurt and her face cascaded. He was standing right by the open wall where she had come in earlier. He glared at her as his leg took another slow step in fully coming into view. He still wore his filthy clothes that draped over his massive form. His face was still defined by the mask as its porcelain had enormous deep cracks. He was towering even from afar. Greta began to grow livid, as questions began to overflowed her mind once again. She still had to be vigilant, you never know what was truly going on behind the mask. Greta began to back up and she slowly descended to the bottom of the staircase, but the eye contact still remained strong.

"How did you find me?" She kept her voice as calm as she could. He didn't reply but only cocked his head slightly to the side. He didn't seem to hear her, as he only stared her down. He made the room feel tense and thick, making it harder to breath.

"Brahms." She predicted her voice towards him. Brahms shudders a bit at the tone. Had he done something wrong, he thought. He brought her back, she was his to love and care for, always. It's what mother and father wanted for him, it's what they gave him, this time he wouldn't let anyone take her away, ever again. He began to pace himself towards her descending direction.

Greta's heart began to pound harder against her chest as she saw him move towards her. She almost stumbled back as her frame shook trying to grab a hold of something before, she fell.

"Stay away." She managed to say with a trembling voice. He continued to walk towards her direction. She had to think fast and say something else so he'd fully stop.

"Brahms you're being a bad boy!" She yelled at him in vexation now. Brahms halted as his eyes narrowed at her wide ones.

"You kidnapped me. Don't you realize they'll know I'm missing?" She pleaded. Brahms didn't move as he thought to himself. He knew they wouldn't find her, because the day she escaped from his grasp, no one ever came for him. No police or anybody, that's how he knew they wouldn't come, she never gave him up. He was pleased by this for a moment as the smallest grinned grew in his deviant mind. This made him want her even more, to himself, alone. He eyed her up and down, he wanted to smell her again, to feel her fragile body, to kiss her. But he knew better, first she'd have to be punished for leaving him and running off with that bloody Malcom. He didn't ever forget what happened that night, it played like a depressing movie over and over. He still felt the pain in his side from her actions. It never left his head, and he never understood why. Why she did, what she did to him. He did everything she'd ever wanted and hoped for, without any questioning. He'd do anything to make her stay with him, here by his side. The hurt still lingered in the darkest part. He began to breath heftily beneath the mask. He saw her and he wanted her, she was his to love and care for.

"Greta..." he whispered in his child-like voice. "I'll... be good... I promise." He began to walk towards her again. Greta backed up to the side as he came, approaching her now.

"It's you... who hasn't." He said struggling to get the words out, as he turned the corner at the staircase. Greta stared up at him as she glanced back quickly seeing his bed. She was cornered, she began to panic inside. This child-like voice scared her even more now, seeing it come from a grown man face to face.

"Brahms... please... you have to let me go." She pleaded but stern as a parent would sound. He only stared at her with wide eyes. He still had that one bloodshot eye that remained giving it a glossy look. Why was she saying this he thought? It only angered him as his chest heaved heavily from his uncontrollable breathing. He brought her back for a reason. He was close to her now, she didn't dare move, nor did her body even let her. Greta could feel his hot breath over her head, as she kept it down not wanting to look up at him. She closed her eyes for a moment as her body shook out of place. He could smell her enchanting scent, oh how he missed her, he thought of her, he craved her, but more importantly he would have so much fun with her.

"No." He said muffled under the mask. His voice was different now. It was dark, deep, but quiet. Her eyes shot opened at his single word. She had to remember he thought like child but had the body of a man. He didn't want his favorite toy to be taken away again. She had to convince him to see he was doing something terribly wrong. There wasn't any hope though, it had been too long now. He'd been trapped between the walls for so many years letting his mind and body rot away. From what he had become, what his parents had allowed him to become, sadly now the damage had already been done. She didn't know him, just as he didn't know her, but in his mind, he felt like he'd already known her throughout all his life.

"Brahms you can't, Malcom will fine m-"

A hand came out fast around her neck and jaw line as he lifted it up towards his cracked face. He didn't have to speak the words to let her know not to say that foul name in his presence. She could smell his thick, and musty unpleasant scent. Her face remained keen, as he peered at hers.

"You will never be half the man he is, you're just a spoiled brat." She said with disgusted on the tip of her tongue. His hand still held firmly on her jaw. Brahms eye almost twitch at her sentence. He began to giggle like a small child would when they weren't behaving. Greta's eyes enlarge at the sound she heard escaping from his hidden lips.

"Silly Greta…. so silly….so pretty." He whispered like an innocent child in her ear. His hand softened on her jaw and neck only to rub it with his thumb. Greta began to breath profoundly at his actions, it only frightened her more to feel his other hand ride up to her side. His fingers pressed hard into her side, pulling her into his sweaty embrace. She panicked she couldn't let this animal touch her. Without thinking she roughly pushed him away only moving him an inch as he let go. His head shot at hers with confusion and rage.

"Don't you dare touch me." She gritted through her teeth feeling repulsed by him. Brahms was shocked and appalled for a split second. Suddenly, his rage got the best of him. If he wanted it, by all means he would have it. He groaned and hitched his breathing from the fire within him. Clashing into her small frame grabbing her face with both his strong hands wanting to connect his porcelain face with hers.

"Brahms no!" She screamed as she stumbles backwards, tripping on a large object. Her body fell onto his bed as she couldn't control gravity. Her eyes darted at his for a split second in fear. Greta scrambled to get off the bed fast, but Brahms was faster. His launched his body at hers, pulling her more into the bed as she tried to escape. Greta kicked and screamed at him; Brahms tried to get a hold of her frantic body. His weight and height on her were huge compared to Malcom's and Cole. She desperately tried to push him off as she cried. Brahms quickly put his hand around her neck, she gasped for air. Her eyes darted to the side to see an old diel phone. Brahms moved his face closer to hers now as he smelled her. She couldn't stand the sight of him. Finally, her hand was free, and he was occupied. She grabbed the entire heavy weighted phone and slammed it against his tempt. Brahms was knocked out for a second rolling onto the other side of the bed against the wall. Greta got up fast dropping the phone making a loud clanking noise. She was so frantic and disheveled she lost her balance banging up against a chair knocking her over slightly. She glanced back to see Brahms moving somewhat snuggly in the bed.

Greta picked herself up and ran for the broken wall, jumping over the debris. She had to find the broken mirror as she ran faster then she ever had in her life.

Brahms laid there lifeless on the bed facedown. Suddenly his blood shot eyes opened with fury. The blood was coursing there his veins, she would feel his wrath. He jumped up like a maniac off his bed as everything around it fell over. He grunted and groaned in hindrance, as he threw a chair out his way. She couldn't had gotten far; she didn't know the walls like he did. He was practically raised in them. She would miss the small doors half the size the walls. The secret passageways to escape from inner walls faster. He was hunched over breathing hard as his hairy chest raised up and down. He removed his filthy cardigan, dropping it to the floor. This dirty white tank top remained, his suspenders were visible now, it laid tightly over his broad shoulders keeping his black pants up in place. His face heated under the mask, he would get her, even if he had to drag her back to him.

Greta turned on every corner urgently, trying to come across the broken mirror. It had to be close she thought, how big can this place possibly be. Her hair swayed back and forth from running, she tried to catch her breath. Unexpectedly, she saw a long light leaning down the hall between the walls. She sighed with a bit of relief at the sight. Shards of deadly glass still rested everywhere. She took ahold of the sides of the mirror as she managed to carefully get out. Abruptly her hand was sliced by a jagged piece of glass sticking out the side.

"AHHhh!" She managed to get out feeling the searing pain as the blood flowed out like a river. She clenched her fist tightly as her looked at it. A gash now implanted into her delicate skin. Greta held it close to her chest as she continued her run now through the manor.

Brahms was walking fast between the walls suddenly hearing loud and fast footsteps from the other side as he abruptly stopped. His eyes widened; she found a way out. His eyes now narrowed, the mirror. He cursed himself, he grunted loudly as his body jolted forward with such force, as he ran faster then he ever did before down these narrow halls in his entire miserable life. He breathed heavily, as his thick curls bounced up and down, he was determined. There was only one secret door that lead closest to the front entrance of the manor. He must beat her there before she even made it to the exit first. He didn't want to go outside ever again.

Greta made it through the dining room, she felt so tired, but was serious and determined to breakout. She hoped she would never have to step foot into this horrid place again. She turned a corner and saw the exit on the other side, it seemed so far. She delayed no more and run towards her freedom.

A secret door was busted open as Brahms cruelled his way out franticly. He picked himself up fast racing over to the large wooden railing. He was next to the giant portrait of him and family. His body slammed against the railing as he saw Greta run for the exit. He narrowed his eyes and braced himself without a second thought as he threw his body over the railing with one hand. It was high but Brahms felt no pain as he landed on his feet.

Greta reached out her hand for the door.

Brahms ran towards her from the side and snatched her up with one arm around her waist. He lifted her into the air as if she weighted nothing. He began to back up as he put both his arms around her body. Greta shouted in outrage at him. He only held he tighter, Greta managed to free her arm as she elbowed his chest. He let out a sharp gasp beneath his mask, she was tough, but he was stronger. He let out a loud groan as he pushed her to the floor on her stomach. He towered over her as his weight laid over her. She tired to elbow him again, but Brahms wouldn't be fooled a second time. He snatched her arm hard flipping her over on her back. Greta greatly tried to hit him somehow as their bodies moved like crazy. Brahms let all his weight onto her low part so she couldn't move her torso, or legs anymore. Brahms captured both her wrist tightly in place. She was pinned to the ground now, helpless, lost, she had failed trying to reach for her freedom. He only breathed heavily over her tired frightened face. His eyes swelled with rage; she could see her terrified face reflect off them. This was it, he was victorious, and she had fallen. She didn't have the strength to fight him anymore, it would never end, it would be a continuous cycle of a never-ending war. And maybe, now it was time to end.

"Kill me." She whispered looking into his dead eyes. "This is what you brought me here for, is it not?" She breathed out.

"So, do it." Her voice was worn out. Brahms only gawked at her, as he processed her alluring words.

_Kill her._

He'd thought about it but stopped. Brahms shook his head slowly from side to side. Greta was astonished for a moment, was she not going to die today? Would her suffering never end? She felt confused by this.

"Why did you bring me here, Brahms?" She asked calmly, but still frightened. His grip softens on one of her wrists. Greta noticed this but didn't dare make any sudden movement as his body lay over hers very closely. Brahms let go of one of her wrists completely as he sat up a bit arched over her delicate frame. His eyes remained on her. Slowly putting his hand in his pocket, only to retrieve a folded-up piece of paper. He lifted it up to show her as he gave it to her with care. Greta was hesitant at her, unsure whether or not to move her arm. Brahms waited for her to except it from his grasp.

Greta slowly ascended her hand to the piece of paper and took it. It was folded into fours, so she could open it easily. Brahms massive body remain hovering over Greta's as he waited for her to see it. Greta had broken eye contact with him now letting her focus go to the paper at hand. She tried opening it with her one hand struggling at first but succeeded.

Just as she would hope to never see again, it was the rules. Greta turned back to Brahms.

"Is this what you want?" She asked ever so gently. Brahms just starred, but soon nodded his head ever so slightly. Greta couldn't believe this was happening, she had to take care of a grown man with the mind of a child. Even though his mind wasn't all child as she could feel something hard from below pressing against her area. She didn't want to move, not wanting him to feel anything he shouldn't be feeling with her helplessly laying beneath him. She knew she couldn't stay realistically; it'd be look living with Cole all over again. Even Malcom was a liar, she was still disappointed by his actions. Brahms though, was going to be different indeed. A man-child who goes by the rules all his life and is needless to say but, a murderer. Greta stopped to think, but it didn't seem she had much of a say at this point. She would have to come up with an escape plan for the near future. She didn't know how she would escape but she would have to figure it out soon. She'd have to play the part for now.

"Ok Brahms… I'll stay." She said with a small smile, but her nerves were still on edge. Brahms was pleased by her words. She would stay with him forever, to love and care for. He looked down her body, his free hand began to graze her stomach with the tip of his fingers. Soon his firm grip came to her side as it led down slowly. Greta breathed out quietly with nervousness as the panic set in again. She glanced at the list then to the window seeing it was still dark out.

"Brahms!" He jumped back slightly as she yelled his name. His hand left immediately in shock for a moment. He glared down at her now as he titled his head. Greta tried to speak.

"It's way past your bedtime." She said convincingly as she looked towards the window and back to him. Brahms knew it was late already, but he still didn't want to stop. He continued his lifeless stare leading from her eyes down to the very end. Brahms hitched slightly as he leaned over her more.

"Brahms you heard me." She said harshly, hoping it would work. He darted his eyes over hers.

"I don't make the rules, I just follow them. Just as you, must obey them Brahms." She was beginning to feel numb as his weight was crushing her. Brahms didn't want to move. "What would your mother and father say if they saw you up this late?" She paused. "This is what you wanted."

Brahms breathed heavily with wide eyes. He began to slowly rise from her. Greta leaned up cautiously as she waited patiently for him to fully stand. He stood a few paces back away from her so she could get herself up. Greta pulled herself up as her face looked pale. Brahms stood tall, hunched over, with his hands behind his back like a little kid that had gotten into trouble. His head was down but still trying to keep an eye on her. Greta began to move first up the stairs as Brahms followed no far behind. He smelled of sweat and was filthy, he needed a shower desperately. It was too late though for him to bathe she thought tomorrow might be better. She hoped a grown man such as himself could wash and keep up with hygiene if she was going to be around him for the time being. It was very dark out and she felt so tired she thought she might even pass out on the long flight of stairs. She couldn't imagine having to walk up all these stairs every day, but now she might have to. She took a quiet sigh as they finally reached their level.

Brahms watched her the entire time as they walked through the manor. He saw she was opening the door to his old childhood room, he ceased as he waited for her to enter to first. Greta opened the door wide as she stood next to it patiently waiting for him enter. Brahms slowly walked in waiting by the dressed for her open the covers for him. Greta noticed the doll seated on the bed. She looked at it carefully seeing it had been repaired. The tiny cracks still remained within its face permanently. He must've put it back together piece by piece, she thought anyone would go mad trying to repair that thing. Brahms must've had a lot of patience and a lot of time on his hands, she thought.

Brahms noticed she stared at the doll, as she approached it. Greta picked it up with care into her arms, as she brought it over to the rocking chair. She gently placed the doll down. Brahms observed this, her actions, she was so gently with it, a none living thing. Well after all, she did think that doll was the real Brahms and his spirt lingering inside of it. She took such good care of the doll, not like the other nannies.

Though he did remember when she didn't care for it in the beginning. She didn't follow the rules, not one rule. Normally, just like the others he'd get rid of them for good, he would've done the same to her, but something held him back. Was it her face, her appearance, her voice, her smile, he didn't exactly know? Or perhaps he just wanted to play. He was running out of options during the time she had picked up the phone to call for help. He spoke to her through the phone.

_Greta, why would you follow the rules?_

He heard her cries in fright. He couldn't show himself. He'd only have one option left to make her follow the rules for good. He remembered he made her favorite food just to get her to believe, to stay. It worked in the end, but not for very long, his plans were destroyed when that bloody Cole and even Malcom came in and ruined anything he planned. He was never allowed to leave the house, mother and father forbid it. He promised them he'd never leave to always stay hidden or they're be dire consequences, but he broke that promise today to bring back his Greta. He had no regrets but felt as if he failed his mother and father once again. He heard their sorrow through the walls but couldn't understand their actions. His mind was running ragged at the thoughts.

The first time he saw her, he thought she was the prettiest thing he'd ever laid eyes on. The other nannies were old bats he thought, he couldn't look at them the way he looked at pretty Greta. Greta, the very name was carved in the deepest parts of his brain. He prayed with his parents for the last time that day in his room. They were leaving, and never coming back, he had read the letter, they had guilt and they couldn't stand for what they had allowed him to become in the end. He knew what they meant; he was smarter than he looked. For what he had done on that very day, but he had no regrets and that's what scared them most. They asked if she was the one, and there was no doubt. He wanted her to be his caregiver, just as she was his to love and care for. The words played over and over in his head like a broken record on a never-ending loop. He wanted Greta to be as gentle and as caring to that doll, as to do the same to him now. He was here, he decided to reveal himself, he didn't have a choice, Greta needed him. Just as he needed her. Brahms continued to stare at her.

Greta began to walk over to the bed and pull off the covers. She looked over at Brahms and took a sigh.

"Are you ready?" She whispered. Brahms just slightly shook his head yes in acknowledgement. She backed up a bit to let him seat himself down. He didn't move as he seated himself on the bed and looked up at her face with wonder in large eyes. If felt different being the small one as he looked up at her. He wanted to touch her, it itched him to know what happened last time when he tried to be close with her. Him and the doll were basically the same person. When she slept with the doll holding it close that night, she was hold him as he saw her sleeping. His heart skipped a beat at the sight, he wanted nothing more than to be there himself.

Rules are rules, and he must follow them, for his parent's sake, and for his as well. For a second, he wondered where they were, he knew they'd never return. They were too ashamed to be in the presence of a hideously deformed creature such as himself. That's why they gave him this mask, this was his true face, his perfect face that mother and father so longed for their perfect son to have. It had been so long he'd even forgotten what he looked like before the incident. He saw nothing wrong with his face now, because this was his true face.

_My handsome little boy Brahmsy. You look…. good as new dearest._

He heard his mother say as he sat in the walls trying on the mask for the first time. It was his fifteenth birthday gift.

_A young man on his way to a brighter day._

But nothing ever was bright in Brahms eyes, as he heard his father say aloud with hope. He remembered just sitting there for hours with the mask laying lifelessly on his deformity. He stared into the nothing as the days pasted. He had no emotions left.

"Brahms?" He shook out of place as he was brought back to reality by her voice.

"Under the covers." She said sternly. Brahms obeyed as he leaned back and tucked his long legs under the small sheets. Greta put the blanket over his broad body as he looked up at her with extended eyes.

"Goodnight Brahms." She whispered pushing her hair behind her ear as she began to turn away. Brahms eyes pleaded for her to stay, as he caught her arm quickly. Greta felt the firmness, this had happened before. She turned slightly seeing he was sitting up now as looked at her with beg written in his eyes. His breathing hitched a bit.

"Kiss." He said weakly in his innocent voice. She didn't want to, but she couldn't refuse remembering last times unfortunate events. She wanted to make a deal though before she put her lips on that deceased infested thing.

"If I do…. then I want to be able to… sleep in my own room tonight." She said softly looking down at him hoping he would be ok with it. Brahms had to think on it, he should just pull her into his embrace right now before he cracked.

"I'll be right next store if you need me." She said reassuringly. Brahms knew how she thought. He thought back to when she suddenly stabbed him, he couldn't get the image out of his head. He was so angry and enraged with fury from her idiot actions. He never hurt her, not once, and she hurt him so. He glanced at her hands seeing she had nothing in her grasp. He knew her movements and thinking method, he wouldn't be made a fool of again. He'd punish her until she'd begged for forgiveness if she dared do anything like that to him again. He kept a close eye on her. He took a moment and nodded his head slowly. Greta took a sigh knowing she could sleep in her own room and not with him.

His body began to lean up more with eagerness as his head titled all the way up. Greta didn't want to, but she had to. If she didn't now, he'd probably wind up pulling her into his bed and she didn't want that happening.

Greta began to slowly leaned down into his cold face. Her lips went slightly to the side of the motionless lips, not wanting to kiss it directly. Her lips touched the murky porcelain, she didn't pucker her lips, he wouldn't know the difference. She didn't want to taste the dry blood of his victims.

Brahms heart pounded against his chest as she kissed him. But he'd never know that she really didn't touch his lips. Greta pulled away before he could reach for her hand and pull her down into him. His eyes opened with a bit of disappointment but still filled with excitement at the same time. She gave a small fake smile and took her leave. Rapidly she was jerked back to his face as she breathed out a sharp grasp in fear. She was about speak until she heard a sinister voice next to her ear.

"I'll be watching."

Greta looked into his dangerous eyes, she pulled away from his grip as she took her leave to the door and shut it completely closed fast. She ran to her room and locked the door shut, sudden catching her eye was what the closet. She raced to it locking that door as well. Greta leaned her back against the door sliding to the floor as she sobbed her eyes out. She placed her hands on her face as she sniffed uncontrollably. It was one thinking after another in her life. She could never get away from the chaos, everywhere she went she found it. She was back where she started, cold and alone.

Suddenly realizing her clothes were scattered everywhere in the room. He must've had a huge tantrum after she escape with Malcom. She lifted herself up off the floor and began to pick up her clothes. She folded them and placed them neatly back in the drawers. When she had finished, she looked into the mirror she was a mess, noticing the large mirror in her room had been cracked in the corner. She could only imagine what he had done.

Her hand suddenly felt of pain, remembering the gash. She went into her bag the laid on the floor retrieving one of her bandannas. She wrapped it around her hand tightly. The bleeding had already stopped long ago. She took a long sigh holding her hand to her chest. A terrible memory now planted in her hand.

She didn't even both changing her clothes for bed, she rolled onto her bed staring up at the sealing. She felt tired but didn't want to sleep, for she knew how fast time goes and she'd already have to begin the day with him. She was dreading it. Greta closed her eyes soundly as a tear came down her face dripping onto the sheets as it drank her sorrow.

Threw the key hole in her closet sat a quiet Brahms watching her drift to sleep.

She begged him to kill her as his body laid over hers, he did nothing. Oh no, he wouldn't kill her, he'd have so much fun with her. The paper.


	4. Chapter 4 - Reminiscence

A room that held the toys of a young boy. Disturbing memories of grief laid within its dark essence. Shattered frames had fallen from the fractured walls severing into an explosion.

Bloodshot eyes had opened in horror, as his pupils dilated drastically. A shaking body rested on the floor in agony as the blood poured out like heavy rain. Weakness and betrayal were scattered through his very soul. Taking a hold of the weapon with a firm grasp that had been implanted through the gut. With one sharp pull there was a scream of pure terror.

His breathing was intense trying to control the amount of air traveling into his porcelain nostrils. He held his stomach tightly as laid on the messy floor. He gripped onto anything for dear life to try pull himself up. He climbed onto the bed with a low grunt escaping from his lips. He left like his weight was crushing him to death, but still determined to stand. Sweat and the scent of rotten gore traveled over his large frame.

He managed to get on top of the tiny bed with a huff. He pushed himself hard, making the man stand tall but fell forward into the dresser from lightheadedness. His hands slammed on it loudly to suppress from another hard fall. It made the dresser rattle against the wall along with some of the toys on top of it slowly rolling off. His head rested against the cool solid wood.

Waiting, he felt… cool. He hands went straight for his face, but jerked it away fast in a panic. His mask had been destroyed after all these years; he felt rage beginning to grow once again. To only see the top half of his mask was on floor.

Broken.

Forgetting he had been bleeding to death, he quickly picked up his other half. Ignoring the agonizing feeling he felt. His emotions ran like a wildflower. He pushed himself through the doorway not even bothering to go through his secret passageways. Well, sadly not much of a secret anymore.

Holding his body up against the walls leaving a trail of crimson blood behind. He grasps the wooden railing on the grand staircase firmly making his knuckles turn white as a ghost. His other hand still holding onto his wounded area along with the broken porcelain. He pasted the luxurious portrait of his family not daring to look at his deceased parents faces. Since his mask wasn't on fully. Showing the burned side of his face would sicken them if they knew he didn't have the mask on. They would be mad.

He reached the bottom of stairs as his brows furrowed hard from the smell of death and an unwelcomed intruder. Removing his hands from his stomach forgetting the pain that was planted within him. He walked into the room where everything went wrong.

The rotting corpse of an alcoholic bastard laid on his very floors. Brahms blood began to simmer as his mind went back to Greta, and….. Malcom. The day his parents left him he knew he should've told them to get rid of Malcom. Brahms knew his parents liked Malcom, they wouldn't want to throw him to the curb so easily. Even though they throw him away, there own son, there heir to the Heelshire Mansion. They treated him like their own since they were both children. Malcom was a couple years older than Brahms of course, but Malcom always seemed to have gotten everything he'd ever wanted.

Malcom was the son they never had.

Brahms felt himself get angrier at the unsettling thoughts. These two men ruined everything for him, his last chance to live what he called a normal life. He took Greta away from Brahms. Brahms clenched his fists and only stared at the decaying body. Greta was his to love and care for…... not Malcom. He wanted him to pay for what he had done to him, as kids, and as adults. He loathed him.

Brahms took the closes object near him and smashed it over Coles body. He then took a chair next to him and lifted it over his head with such powerful force by anger. He slammed it on Coles head making his head slightly crack open from the intense force. Brahms yelled with fury and frustration as he bashed him repeatedly. He was breathing heavy not even noticing he dropped the other half of his mask on the floor.

Brahms jolted his body up fast almost falling back from slight shakiness. He leaned his body against the wall not knowing what to do next, his emotions running a mile a minute. He hated the feeling of betrayal and constant hurt coming into his life. He wanted Greta, no, he needed Greta. The way she held the doll when she was sound asleep in his childhood room. They both looked so pure and at peace, that's what he wanted.

The doll. He turned his head slightly to see the doll had been scattered to a million pieces on the filthy carpet. A gift that forced him to go away into the shadows. As much as he didn't want to look at it, he still had to save it. He had to save the perfect childhood image he will never fully know or even understand.

It had been hours all throughout the night. His hands struggled to stay steady as pushed the last piece ever so lightly into the eye socket. Brahms was reborn, but the cracks of the broken memories shall always remain within the delicate porcelain.

Brahms picked up the doll with ease holding it close to his heaving chest. Making his way through the walls slowly. The image of innocent was fractured. He kept his head down ever so slightly as he walked through the shattered mirror. He ignored the lifeless body as if nothing was there except him and his childhood.

He got out of the room and made his way to the front entrance. He ceased in his tracks in front of the giant old wooden doors. The outside world was forbidden for him. He was stuck between the walls. If he broke the rules now, where would he go? Brahms had nothing now, no friends, no family, no… Greta. This place was his home and he wanted to stay, but Brahms needed to be taken care of, and maybe even loved. Greta was the only nanny that ever stayed with him, and he enjoyed every moment of it. A pretty thing she was, he thought. He would've never showed himself though, not until that very horrendous day. He liked to watch her and wanted to hold her, just like what did many years ago. He knew it was her the day she came to the Heelshire Mansion. He'd recognize her anywhere.

He lied to himself hoping that if he'd would open the doors and she would be there waiting for him. That she came back to him, that Greta…. didn't leave him like the rest.

Brahms eyes widened with false hope as he took a firm grasp on the handle. He turned it slowly to hear a click. The door started being pulled open by the cold wind entering throughout the mansion quickly. Brahms let the door open on its own as he stepped aside. He hadn't been on his large front porch in years. He only took a few steps out the doorway. He hoped to see her on the other end walking towards him. But all he saw was tracks marks leading to his gates leading far away into the woods.

He held the doll close to him to try and calm himself down from having another outburst. It was waiting to escape his body at any given moment. The voices of his past screamed in rage.

Bring her back.

The tracks just seem to get further and further away into the darkness.

He took her.

Was there really no light?

Find her.

She left.

Greta had woken up with a sharp gasp almost forgetting where she was. She thought he heard a noise but thought otherwise. She got up fast taking a hold of the closet door jiggling it to make sure it was still secure. Her face relaxed slightly as she breathed out a funny noise, almost like a laughter. She rubbed her face feeling the dried-up tears from last night. She felt disgusting in and out of her body. She wanted to change but she knew she was most likely being watched. Sadly, she didn't know all the secret pervert holes he had throughout this godforsaken monstrosity of a mansion. She thought she would never step foot in this place again, or in her old guest room again for that matter.

Greta had to prepare herself mentally. She didn't even know where to begin. This was insanity she felt like she could pull out her own hair. Greta had been kidnapped by a dangerous man. More or less a big man child. She grunted in frustration. She had to come up with a plan on how to escape, this whole mansion had eyes everywhere, and they all focused on her. This would be a difficult challenge she thought feeling worried and scared out of her mind. She investigated the mirror as she leaned herself forwarded taking a deep breath.

"Just breath." She muttered to herself. "You can handle him." She gestured her hands in a moving motion trying to calm herself.

"Malcom will realize that you never even came down for breakfast-" She paused for a moment with wide eyes. Her head stun around to the old clock reading 11:58.

_Shit._

She'd overslept and who knows what Brahms was thinking. Her body began to feel the fear once again rise from the bottom. She quickly put her shoes on and threw on an old sweater she left here before escaping, she tried to cover her dirty shirt. She walked towards the door quickly but stopped as she hesitated for a moment. She didn't want to face him, or even serve him. She kept reminding herself that Malcom would realize her stuff is still there and that something might've happened to her. It was just a matter of waiting, but for how long exactly. How long can she keep this up and play the convincing part of a nanny. She pushed it in the back of her mind as she shook her head. She opened the door and walked down the hallway quickly.

She tied her hair up as she normally did when getting to work. She abruptly stopped in her tracks as her brain hadn't been working so far. Brahms, she never woke him up.

_Wait. Who I am waking up actually? Brahms, or Brahms?_

She huffed in frustration while rolling her eyes. She walked back to where his front door was to the child's room. She braced herself and made a small knock on the door taking a firm hold on the handle.

"Brahms it's time to wake up." She whispered softly as she opened the door carefully. Her face went down realizing he wasn't in the bed. She opened it wider with confusion as her brows knitted together. She took a few steps in, it was completely quiet and empty inside. She left the door open as she paced herself out. She wondered where he went, but still a bit of relief felt nice not having to wake him up. She continued to walk as she reached the top of the stairs. Greta descend to the bottom as she held the thick railing.

Maybe this was it, maybe I don't need to wait for Michael. Her heartbeat started to pick up and as she saw the front door. She looked around with caution quickly. The mansion was dead silent. Wherever Brahms was in this place she didn't care now. She quietly but swiftly moved to the massive doors. She took ahold of the knob and was about to turn it, but it didn't budge. She began to shake it with panic only to make the door echo throughout the area. She looked at with worry forming in her face. Suddenly the sides caught her attention making her eyes grow thicker. Seeing deadly large nails being embedded on the sides and two large bolts on the top of the door. The was a lock on the bolt so it couldn't be opened without a key of some kind.

Greta turned away quickly heading to the back door where the kitchen was. She turned a corner fast and reached for the door but failed seeing more locks. Her last option was the windows. She walked throughout the mansion's main levels of rooms swiftly. But nothing worked she put her hands over her head in disappointment. She was now in the library seeing the grand piano along with the massive bookshelves in front of her. Seeing the familiar books, she had once read in this house. Leading down to the vintage vinyl records. She took a step forwards it and pulled out the record carefully reading an old opera musical on it. She looked back up seeing it was all old operas before her time. She snickered a bit as she looked back to the record in her hands.

"If only they knew the music they have nowadays." She whispered to herself as she slid it back into its original place.

Greta turned to head back to the door but yelp in fear and surprise to see Brahms starring at her through the door frame. She felt uncomfortable as she didn't know if she should speak. Even though Brahms probably wouldn't talk as he just starred with bloodshot eyes. She tried to find her voice as Greta took a shaky breath.

"Brahms, I um-" she paused. "I couldn't find you… or the doll." She lied. She didn't want to find him, if anything she was trying to find a way out of here. It might've been too soon though.

Brahms took slow steps towards her as she took a few small steps back. This man with very unpredictably and could change this demeanor with just saying the wrong words to him. Greta decided not to move and keep her ground. Greta looked at him now in his dark eyes behind his cracked mask. He was inches away from her as he looked down at her small frame. She could feel his warm breath on her skin. He's wearing the same thing from last night, still dirty, still disgusting. In his filthy white tank top, along with stained dried blood on his black suspenders and pants. Greta didn't want to know whose blood that was radiating off his clothing.

"You weren't in your room. So, I… went to look for you." Her voice was quiet but stern. She hoped he didn't suspect her walking through the manor because she was looking for an exit. She felt his eyes see right through her lies. Greta knew it would be hard to get him to trust her, with anything for that matter. Brahms chest heaved from his breathing becoming louder. Greta needed to think, then she saw the bookshelves.

"I-I was admiring your books." His breathing slowed out a bit. "I was trying to see if there were any good books here, you'd like for me to read to you later." She said offering him a kind small smile.

His head turned slightly towards the books from where she stood. She was hoping he would fall for it, so she didn't have to stand so close to him. Brahms eyes shot at her again. Greta felt a bit of fear start to arise again. Brahms grabbed her hand before she had to time to pull away. His grasp was tight on her small hand compared to his. She tried to stay strong and ignore the sharp pain he gave her.

Brahms quickly shoved something in her hand and closed her palm tightly. Greta shouldn't see what was inside her heads as Brahms hands hold tightly around hers. He starred at her intensely almost trying to stay something through the mask. His hands soften a bit as he let go. Greta was still in shock but managed to wake up from what just happened. She broke the eye contact as look looked down at the hard thing in her hand. It was a piece of paper crumped up in her hand. Greta had opened it with ease into her heads fully.

The rules.

He was obviously mad that she didn't get up and do her job. She was supposed to be taking care of him. But why didn't he just break down the door of her room when she overslept. Was he trying to be good? There were only so many demons this man can hold back though, she thought. She didn't want to go to sleep one night and not wake up the next day. She wanted to live, and now she couldn't play with fire that's for sure.

"I'm sorry Brahms, I overslept. It won't happen again." She smiled. "I'll make it up to you." He hitched a bit at her words. Greta hoped he wouldn't think too much into it as her smile gradually went away.

Greta quickly looked back down at the list quickly reading it over.

"2. Never leave Brahms alone." She read to herself.

I don't think he'll ever leave me alone.

She thought to herself instantly. Next was meals in freeze. She would kill to have some food right now. She was spoiled by Malcom's five-star meals. He could really cook amazingly though, I'm not the best at it, she thought disappointedly. When Greta was alone, she always had simple meals or just order take out some other nights.

"Ok Brahms, since we missed breakfast. How about some lunch?" She asked knowing he wouldn't answer. He just starred at her as she walked towards the door.

Brahms followed closely as he wanted to keep a close eye on her. Greta felt his body heat, that's how close he was, and it made her very uncomfortable. She didn't dare look back into those deadly night shaded eyes.

Greta made it too the kitchen as Brahms walked past her to the large kitchen table. He was so silent as he sat down at the head of the table as he watched her meticulously. Greta tried her best to overlook him and focus on finding food. She opened the fridge quickly seeing mostly froze food. It would take hours for it to defrost before she could throw it in the oven. She saw the grape jelly on the side of the refrigerator door. Thank god, she thought.

She grabbed it quickly closing the door. Greta took bread from the bread box and place it out on the countertop. Quickly opening the top cabinets for what she hoped to find was peanut butter.

Brahms kept all eyes on her, even though he didn't like that she didn't look at him once. Why wasn't she looking at him, he thought. He started to feel irritated by not getting any attention from her.

Greta finally found the glass jar of peanut butter. She took a sigh in relief. Taking two slices of bread and place the grape and peanut butter on each one as she smeared it with the bottom of a spoon. She placed one on top of the other gently, now all she needed to do was cut it. She opened the drawer next to her and pulled out a knife.

She was about to cut the sandwich in half until a strong hand squeezed her wrist tightly making her wince pain. Greta immediately dropped the knife as it hit the floor loudly.

"Brahms! What are you doing let go!" She yelled at him, but it only tightens his grip on her more.

Greta tried to grab his hand around her wrist to free herself but fail miserably. His other hand shot out at her jaw holding it tighten making her now only look at him. Greta feel scared and angry in this terrifying moment. Their eye contact was strong but Brahms tower over her making her back arch forward a bit into his body.

Brahms slowly shook his head in disapproval. Greta narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance. Brahms just continued to stare at her, but his grip softens on her jaw and face. Greta hopes that he'll let go without any more problems.

Brahms eyes look pleaded for a moment as the darkness seem to back down a bit. He inched his masked face towards the side of her smooth cheek almost touching it. His breath hitches a bit as he inhales her sweet scent. Greta closes her eyes for a moment in disgusted from his closeness. His body was too close for comfort she needed this to stop now.

"Brahms that's enough" she tried to stay stern. Brahms ignored her words going right over his head. He inched closer and Greta couldn't take it.

"Brahms, I said that's enough!" She shouted making him jump back from her with large eyes. She had to remember what she did last time when this situation happened.

"Your being bad! If you do that again I won't do anything for you." She said aloud. Brahms only starred with rageful eyes, as his body language looked more deadly in his stance.

"You heard me. Now sit Brahms." She whispered, but loud enough to hear.

Brahms was boiling inside. Her words only fueled the fire more and more as she spoke. She was his, to love and care for, why couldn't she see that? Her words would come to an end if she didn't stop now and see that she was all his.

They both stood their ground as they looked at one another, one with hate, and one with anger. Brahms only took a deep silent breath one last time before returning to his seat at a slow pace. Greta put her hand on the countertop keeping her from falling and pacing out from fright.

She looked back down at the uncut sandwich on the plate. She knew she might die, maybe tonight, or maybe tomorrow, but she knew it would happen sooner rather than later if she didn't play along with him. She hoped Malcom would soon realize that something was wrong this morning.

He felt terrible about last night. He knew Brahms was in the house all along, he should've never had let her stay there for such a long time. It was that ghastly bloody secret that family had, he thought to himself furiously. And I had to go along with it, The Heelshire's were like family to me and I couldn't say no. They were both so desperate for me to keep quiet about Brahms being alive. He killed a little girl and we'll never know why he did it.

That day bringing them their groceries.

Malcom was a young man at 19 years of age the day it happened. He was driving in his pickup truck heading to his last house of the day where the Heelshires lived. After graduating from High School, he decided to help his father with the family business after his mother had passed. He enjoyed seeing the Heelshires, especially after their son and that poor little girl that died. Both their families had lost someone they loved, and they could relate with one another more now than ever. The manor seemed to be a little darker now that everything was different. There only son was taken from them at such a young age. There wasn't as many flowers, everything was dying and shriveling up due to the cold weather. Malcom had known Brahms since they were little, Brahms was always shy, and timid around others. He didn't pay much mind to it though; everyone was different inside.

Pulling up to the gate, he jumped out the truck quickly and run to open the gates as wide as possible. The old gates squeaked loudly as they swung wide open. Malcom made it back into this car putting it in drive as he drove forward into the woods. Driving down the long swervey road he made it to the side where the kitchen doors were located. He put the truck in park and got out the car quickly. Opening the back trunk to take out the bags of food. He sprinted to the top of the steps knocking on the door. He waited for them to answer like they always do every week. He knocked again a little louder.

"Mr. Heelshire, it's me Malcom!" He paused. "I'm here to delivery your food!" He said aloud, but it seemed no one had heard. He put the hefty bags of food down next to the door. He tired to look through the windows into the kitchen but saw not a soul in there. The kitchen was completely empty.

"Hmmp" He breathed out in confusion.

There always here to answer the door every Monday afternoon. Malcom strolled over the bags and walked along the enormous porch to turn the corner. There old car was still here, he thought. They must've been home, where are they actually? Malcom quickly went to the front entrance of the mansion and rang the doorbell twice, but there was still no answer.

Malcom started to feel a bit concerned, but it was probably nothing. He hopes they didn't forget he was coming to there home. Malcom swiftly skipped and jumped down the rest of the stairs making his heavy boots hit the graveled ground with a loud noise. He backed up to see the windows in the higher levels of the mansion. Sadly, there was a glare in all the windows due to the suns shinning bright light. He huffed in frustration.

Suddenly catching his attention of what sounded like the rolling of a glass bottle coming from the other side around the house. Malcom walked quickly along the gravel to reach the corner.

"Mr. Heelshire is that you back there?" He asked aloud bending his body forward to peak around the house. He gasped in fright almost falling backwards to see a rat springing out between the large trash cans. The rat scurried away quickly into the tall grassy fields heading into the woods.

Malcom's hand was over his heart from the ugly sight. He took a sigh as he reached for the bottle on the ground tossing it in the garbage and closing it with the top.

"I should really advise them for some traps." He muttered walking along the path.

He hopped onto the grass seeing that the side of house was a little disheveled. He wondered why it looked so ghastly with a brow raised. Unexpectedly he stepped on something making a small crunch sound. Malcom immediately removed his foot to investigate. He seemed to have stepped on a glass frame that was badly hidden in the grass. He shot down to retrieve the broken item bring it to eye level.

The image was old and a bit dusty making it hard to see the image. Careful not to cut himself, Malcom pulled out the dusty image through the cracked glass frame. He dropped the rest to the ground, as he whipped the dirt off it quickly.

His brows knitted together as he observed the image. Seeing that it was taken years ago, and that he was also in this photo, but as mere child. Brahms's Birthday party he had when he was young. There where a lot of kids there he remembered, but it didn't show everyone though in this image.

Seeing two girls and a hand full of boys running together, as Brahms was sitting at a small kids table. He seemed to be starring at one of the children at play. But who was he looking at in particular? Malcom felt confused as to why this small piece of memory was even out here on the ground in the first place.

Catching his attention quickly was the basement cellar doors that lead outside seeing that it was wide open for anyone to come inside. He put the picture in his leather jackets pocket. He went to close the doors but stopped at the thought of hearing something. Malcom leaded forward a little into the medium sized doorway. He debated whether or not to go inside, maybe something did happen.

Malcom took a step carefully inside leaving the doors open to let in some type of light. His boots made a small echo leading to the bottom of the cement floors. Being too tall he had to bend his head and back down a bit so he wouldn't hit his head on any of the old wood supporting the house.

Stepping over some broken wood carefully as he made it into a narrow long hallway. He now stood tall as he looked in both directions. He has never seemed this weird part of the house before. It most've been the spacing between the walls of the mansion. They were much bigger than what other houses had that's for sure. Malcom touched the wall seeing how dirty it was.

Faint whispers could be heard down the long hallways. Malcom looked to his side but saw nothing.

"Hello?" His voice was quiet but stern. The whispers continued to fade into the distance. Malcom began to walk down the hall with ease. His footsteps create small echoes leading down the too corner of the hall. Turning to see another long hallway but now seeing different passageways this time.

The voices began to increase a little to his ears.

"Mr. Heelshire?" He whispered. "Is that you?" Malcom picked up his pace a bit.

He turned down on of the hallways to still see nothing but a maze. He turned back to see a different area. Did the hallways change, he thought? Confusion struck his eyes. As he saw various signs with simple words on the floors and walls. The voices escalated tremendously as Malcolm's face began to fret. He shut his eyes and covered his hears fast. Clenching his teeth from the loud voices. Suddenly, dead silence. He could only hear his breathing from within his body. He tried to calm himself, he didn't know what just happened to him. Soon small muffles could be heard as he slowly released his hears with caution. It sounded a little clearer now as he looked up at bit.

Malcom thought he began to hear the accent of a woman. Malcom didn't realize he was breathing and was sweating a bit from the heat between the walls. The voice was soft but anxious at the same time. He started to walk towards the tone of voice, suddenly hearing a second person. It was a male but couldn't make out anything but mumbles.

Malcom walked to the sounds he heard now. He turned a corner to see a small light hit the wall across from it. It looked like the wall had been destroyed entirely to make an easier passageway. He stopped from the sight of finally seeing more light had emerged.

**What were you think?**

Malcom heard a feminine voice and walked slowly down the hall to not make any noise.

**You need to be a good boy for mommy.**

The voices gotten a little louder the closer he approached.

**She's not here anymore, you know that. The girl is gone.**

Malcom was right next to the broken wall; his body was embedded into it.

**We need you to stay here, where its safe son.**

Malcom took a step through quietly but couldn't see anybody though. Malcom felt confused, was Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire talking to someone else here, or was Malcom just going crazy from the lack of air he had in his lungs.

The room was disgusting, and a foul odor came shooting up through his nose. Was this the basement, he thought? Everything on the mains level of the mansion was the total opposite of this wretchedness. Suddenly seeing Mr. Heelshires back as he stood next to his wife who was sitting on a chair near the corner of the darken room. Malcom felt a bit of relief as to finally seeing the Heelshire's in one peace.

Malcom made a small smiled as he was about to speak aloud to them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire, I thought something happened to you." He said making them turn around fast in surprise. Fear struck in both their eyes as they saw Malcom standing there in this particular room.

"Malcom…" the wife breath out with wide eyes as she stood shakily. It was almost as if she was trying to hide something.

"I was looking everywhere for you guys." He smiled. "You didn't answer the kitchen so I left th-" he stopped seeing a dark figure behind them. His heart began to pump from the creepy sight.

Mr. Heelshire stood still for a moment as he tried to find the right words. Malcom smile slowly descended.

"Malcom you shouldn't have come in." He whispered in worry.

Suddenly the tall masked man stood up fast from the bed starring dangers at Malcom. The mother lost all strength in her legs as she landed on the chair again.

"Brahms n-no please. Calm down." She said whispered softly holding his arm and hand. Malcom just starred in shock hearing the name of the young man.

Brahms was alive. He had to be around 17 years old and he was as tall as him. He was a mess, and wore… a mask? Why is he alive, how is he alive? What happened, they said he died in the fire along with that girl. The sight was disturbing to the eye, he could only image what was happening behind these walls after all these years. What did his parents do to him?

Malcom was stuck in place as he lifted his hands up slightly.

"This was a mistake." Malcom spoke so silently he was hardly heard. He could hear heavy breathing from behind the dirty mask the man wore.

Brahms was started to move his legs towards him.

"It's ok Brahms, calm down." The mother babied him, but Brahms didn't hear her as he kept all eyes on Malcom. The mother's eyes pleaded Malcom to leave and save himself for what might happen next.

Malcom began to back up seeing he was coming towards him, but Brahms began to push forward making his mother fall to the ground trying to hold of Brahms arm. Mr. Heelshire quickly grabbed his son trying to pull him back as much as he could. Brahms was young and stronger than his old man.

"Malcom run!" Mr. Heelshire yelled towards Malcom. Malcom ran fast tripping over some broken wood on the floor.

"No Brahms please!" The mother hollered as she tried to get up. Brahms pushed his father to the bed as he shot off running after Malcom with fury.

"John you have to stop him!" The wife pleaded for her husband. Mr. Heelshire tried to get up as quickly as he could, and she did the same. He headed for the broken walls.

Malcom ran as fast as he could down the long halls in fear. His breathing was so heavy he thought he might pass out. He had to get to an exit point. Malcom ceased dead in his tracks with large eyes seeing Brahms body come fast around the corner as his chest was heavying and he starred at him with broad eyes. He obviously knew these walls better than him. Brahms through all his body weight towards him. Malcom run the opposite direction as Brahms was close behind him.

Brahms snatched the back of his jacket collar causing Malcom to choke hard. Brahms slammed him on the ground with such hatred, such force. Malcom kicked him with his heavy boots making Brahms gasp out air under his mask. Two powerful forces tried to get the upper hand. Fists were through hard each other on the dirty floors. Malcom grunted in pain from a hard hit to the lower face.

Brahms got the upper hand fast trying to grab his throat. Malcom struggled for air, a way out, there was too much pain being created.

"BRrahMs… PleEE-ase!" He tried to speak. "WeeRe FriEN-" but there was no air for him to breathe.

Brahms just starred at the dying man with pleasure. He was finally putting this man's life to an end. He couldn't stand him, he hated him, he wanted to see this man suffer for what he did to him. Malcom held his thick wrists trying to push Brahms away. Malcom's body jerked so much the image had now slipped out his pocket.

The image laid there lifelessly. His eye raced to the picture quickly. Brahms looked at it forgetting Malcom was even there beneath him. His eyes softened on the old photograph, but his grip was still tight on the dying man. Seeing the memory made him feel weak again. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't bring himself to.

Abruptly Brahms was jerked off Malcolm's body from behind. Brahms eyes went back to the deadly sinister shade of black once his hands were forcefully removed from his throat. Malcom gasp for air now making a wheezing. Brahms still tried to attack him as much as he could.

"That's enough!" Mr. Heelshire shouted trying to lift Brahms up.

"Brahms be a good boy and listen to your father!" The wife screamed at Brahms. He didn't want to be bad. He stopped his attacks and let his father pull him up. The father huffed in frustration lifting the man's dead weight to his feet. Brahms body towered over everyone but continued to gape at Malcom slowly moving body. He narrowed his eye down at Malcom wishing he could've finished the job.

"Come here Brahms. Come to mommy." She said with tears strolling down her face and gesturing him to into her arms. Brahms turned his head slowly to his mother but kept his head slightly down. The father only looked at Brahms waiting for him to move so he could help Malcom. Brahms looked at his father vaguely as Mr. Heelshire gave him a small nod.

Brahms looked back at his mother's warming embrace she was giving him. Brahms took small steps towards his mother.

"That's it, there's my good boy." She said softly as she took his hand carefully into hers. She gave him a motherly smile leading him back to his unground room.

Mr. Heelshire waited until they turned a corner and went down quickly to inspect Malcom. He looked somewhat unconscious, still breathing thank god, he thought.

"Malcom." He whispered trying to shake him awake. "Malcom." He said a bit louder.

Malcom eyes lifted slowly but moved his body up in defense.

"No-no its ok Malcom. Everything is fine." He tried to keep a calming voice taking a hold of his shoulders. Malcolm's lower lips was bleeding from the hard hits he took from…. Brahms.

"He supposes to be dead." He murmured, making Mr. Heelshire look down in disgrace.

"I know this all se-"

"What did you do to him?" Malcom began to breath heavy. "He- he's not himself- he's crazy!" He stuttered.

Mr. Heelshire tried to calm him, but he knew it wasn't going to work. Seeing a man come back from the dead is a little unsettling.

"Malcom if you come with me upstairs I can-"

"I'm not going anywhere with you." Malcom spat out in disgust and he abruptly stood up. Mr. Heelshire stood up as well.

"Malcom if you'll please let me explain." He pleaded. Malcom kept his distance from him.

"How can you keep him here. Locked up!? Like some animal!" Malcom shouted in anger. "You ought to be a bloody shamed of yourself John!"

"Malcom please! You don't know the full story."

"I don't have to know because of what I've seen today. Tells me everything I need to know of what type of parents you both became." Malcom spit out harshly as he pushed passed Mr. Heelshire.

Mr. Heelshire was scared and felt like his heart was breaking all over again. He couldn't lose Malcom; he couldn't lose Brahms. He only wanted to protect him from the truth, and project Brahms from the outside world. Brahms would've never made it in prison or even an institution. It probably did make him a bad parent though in the end.

Malcom made it to the doors of the basement and jumped out. He walked off back to his truck. He knows he was almost killed today, but Brahms was here, and he was alive. It wasn't his fault, he thought. He was in a basement after all these years and presumed dead by the media. Malcom knew he couldn't help Brahms just by himself. He'd have to go to the police and bring Brahms to a hospital to help him mentally and physically. He'd leave it to the professionals for sure. He always cared for Brahms as a child he was his friend, he thought. He would forgive him for choking him, sadly Brahms didn't know any better. He'd been stuck in a house all his life away from the real world.

"Malcom wait!" Mr. Heelshire shouted trying to run after him but wasn't very fast. Malcom ignored his calls and continued to walk around to the front of the mansion.

"Yes- your right." He breathed. "I am a bad parent. I kept my son locked away from the world, but I only did it for his protection."

Suddenly the front door was swung open quickly seeing Mrs. Heelshire come out. Malcom just kept walking with heavy footsteps.

"John!" She called out his name in desperation. Mr. Heelshire didn't look her way.

"Malcom please, you think doing this may be a good thing for him, but it's not. Brahms won't survive out on his own, he can't be around others!"

"What are you talking about! Of course, he's been around others!" He shouted back as he rolled his eyes in disbelieve.

"Malcom you don't understand!" The wife shouted.

"Go back inside now!" Mr. Heelshire yelled at her as she wept.

Malcom made it to his car pulling out his keys.

"Malcom, please, I beg of you. Don't do this."

Michael was about to get in the car and then slammed the door shut with ire written all over his face. Michael now face Mr. Heelshire in resentment.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have him taken away." He said in a low voice trying to control his temper at this point trying not to knock the man out in front of him.

Mr. Heelshire took a shaky breath. He didn't say anything though, which pretty much gave Malcom his answer. Malcom turned as he opened the front door and was about to climb into his trucks front seat.

"It's because Brahms killed her!" He shouted seeing Malcom had stopped in his tracks. His back facing Mr. Heelshire as he slowly turned to look down on him.

"Who?" He whispered as his brows stuck together tightly.

"Malcom please." He breath out in defeated. "Come inside, and I will explain everything to you. Your like family to me." He paused. "No more lies." He sighed feeling tired.

Malcom only stared down on his weak tiresome eyes. Malcom thought about it for a second, everything was so quiet now. There was absolutely no chaos at this very moment. Malcom looked up at the mansion at the windows only to see a dark figure shining down directly at Malcom. He took a long sigh and looked down at Mr. Heelshire.

It had been hours as he sat at the kitchen table listening to everyone's words carefully.

"Why didn't you just get him help? He was still young; he might've gotten better as he get older through some type of treatment." Malcom tried reasoning.

"Malcom I…, I couldn't send him away." He paused. "He's my son." He shrugged his shoulders.

Malcom only put his head down slightly. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"But he kil-" Malcom stopped by Mr. Heelshire gesturing him to keep his voice down. Malcom took a sigh.

"He killed that little girl though. How are you ok with that logic?" He asked trying to keep a lower voice.

"It's not ok, it's absolutely horrifying to know that my son is a killer." The mother said with sadness. Malcom didn't even look her way. Mr. Heelshire kept his head low as Malcom sat up straighter.

"How long do you plan on doing this for?" He asked eyeing them. They both stayed silent at the question. Was this there life from now on? They themselves didn't even know the answer.

"A week, a month…. years?" He asked moving his hands around in disbelief.

"He's getting older, and smarter." He lingered. "It's getting harder to control him." Mr. Heelshire said.

Malcom thought of Brahms choking him and how he was yanked off him. He was strong and had determination written in his eyes. It was scary to know that there were so many secrets behind these very walls.

"What happened to her body?" Malcom asked quietly.

"That was where the fire set in place." He breathed out. "After seeing Emily dead in the woods, we couldn't bury her. Brahms and even us would've been taken away if they found her." Mr. Heelshire looked at his wife.

"We had to make it look like an accident. Setting fire the only option we had the playrooms where they would both be in. No traces lefts. She was in there, but…. Brahms wasn't supposed to be." He said quietly.

Malcom raised a brow in questioning.

"I don't understand… if you wanted to fake a death for Brahms, then why was he in there. He could've actually been killed by the flames."

"We didn't know he was in there when we set it up. He went through one of the secret passageways again and couldn't get back out." He paused in sadly. "The fire had engulfed him… leaving him horribly burned on his face."

He could hear the screams of the child in pure agony.

"And… that's why he wears a mask?" Malcom asked.

"Yes, it makes him feel… more secure." Mother said softly.

Malcom didn't like this at all, he killed someone, and he is indeed getting older by the minute. He could only image what'll happen when he becomes a full adult man. Malcom knew that girl as a young child, they all grew up together in the same town.

"Why did he do it?"

"We don't know why he did what he did. He doesn't talk as much anymore after I pulled him from the fire." Mr. Heelshire went to stand up from the table.

"Then… why is there all pictures outside on the side of your house. There's stuff everywhere."

"Brahms…. got out. This was the first time in years he stepped foot outside." He hesitated. "I think he thought he saw or heard someone… maybe calling him, but he won't talk to us." He shrugged. Malcom was puzzled as to why Brahms would want to leave me and then come back. Something might have sent him off down there, or maybe he did hear something. Remembering now that Malcom himself had heard something too and it sounded lost and fill the air with rage. Almost alluring but was devious at the same time. Malcom decided not to mention it though, not wanting them to worry more about the topic.

"He always had drawing and pictures laying around, of what seemed to be a girl, little children at play. But we aren't sure anymore of what he's thinking."

Malcom stood tall too at this point.

"Malcom my boy, after everything that has happened. We pray for forgiveness each day for our sins. We love our son too much to see him taken away from us. Please don't do this to him. To us."

Malcom kept his head down as he thought. This was all too much for just one day. He wished he hadn't walked down to the basement. He wished he hadn't heard or seen anything. He leaned against the countertop. He knew this was wrong, but he could see his parents were heartbroken and scarred for life from the awful events. Sadly, their son wasn't normal from the rest, they wished they could've seen it soon rather than later. He thought about the bodies and what they had to do during that time. It made him feel sick to his stomach, but he can only imagine what the parents were feeling when it first occurred. In a way he understood why they did what they did, but still in the back of his mind he knew it was amiss.

"Ok." Malcom said quietly. Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire looked up quickly at him. "I won't…. say, or do anything."

The Heelshires looked like they were about to cry but held it back. He was here and Malcom was a part of this now. As much as he didn't want to be it was too late, he had seen too much at this point.

"Thank you." The mother whispered. Malcom just slightly nodded his head at both their directions.

"Malcom, come with me." Mr. Heelshire spoke aloud making Malcom's head shoot up rapidly at his moving body. He was already walking out the kitchen along with Mrs. Heelshire. Malcom hesitated for a moment but complied. He walked up the staircase with his wife, as Malcom kept him distance behind them both. They made it upstairs and paced themselves down the wide hallway. Malcom kept his hands in his jacket pockets as he followed them. Mr. Heelshire stopped at a door to Brahms old childhood room. Malcom breathing hitched at the sight of him opening the door wide. They both stepped in first, as Malcom stayed back a bit. He inched his way to the doorway and glanced at where they both stood.

"Malcom, this is going to be Brahms." Mr. Heelshire said moving aside to see a clean porcelain doll. Malcom felt confused at the sight, and a little creeped out.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." He was genuinely baffled at their wording.

"I purchased him as a coping mechanism for the loss of our son." The wife said looking down at the doll. "Anytime we need to go out, we'll hire a nanny to take care of Brahms."

Malcom just starred at the doll, scary to see that the doll actually looked like a younger Brahms.

"But…. if a nanny sees this- or if anybody sees this thing, and they have to take care of it…. who would be willing to do such a thing? And the real Brahms is in the walls." Malcom questioned.

"That's why we made a list of rules that are suited specifically to reach all of Brahms's needs." He said taking the paper out of the drawer next to him and handed it to Malcom.

"Now see here each set of rules must be followed." Mr. Heelshire pointed to the list showing him.

"And what if they don't follow these rules?" Malcom looked at Mr. Heelshire with unease in his sore throat. Mr. Heelshire hesitated if too scared to answer.

"We'll make sure we hire someone suitable for the task of course." The wife chimed in breaking the silence.

"So, you really think this could actually work? They think they'll be taking care of a…. doll, but really they'll be caring for a grow man." Malcom questioned eyeing at him.

"It has to…., we won't be around forever." He lowered his voice looking at his wife's worried eyes.

"What if he doesn't like the caretaker? Or even worse he might… I don't know-" Malcom felt defeated at a loss for words at this point. He took a long sigh and rubbed his face in irritation.

Malcom looked back at the doll's dull glossy eyes.

"It looks just like him." Malcom muttered. The room was full of sorrow and grief seeing all the old toys lay around.

"Listen… I, don't think I should be a part of this." He looked at them both. "I won't say a word, but I won't be a part of this madness." He voice was tired. Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire only looked at him in misery.

"I will play along when I see the dol- Brahms. I'll make it believable when others come to visit." He said nodding his head. "I'll treat it like the real Brahms."

Malcom took his leave and headed to the door and he went to leave the mansion. Leaving Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire alone in their sons' old room.

Malcom jogged down the stairs quickly and headed for the kitchens back door. He opened it wide and headed for the truck. He opened the door and jumped inside slamming it shut. He turned the key bring the engine to life.

"Malcom wait!" He heard pulling down his window to hear the man better. "Here!" Mr. Heelshire handed him the key to the kitchen door.

"I don't want you having to go back down there where he is." He huffed a little out of breath. Malcom took the key from him and looked down on Heelshire. "Just come inside, don't wait around for us."

Malcom looked at the old key to the mansion, and just simply nodded his head. He put the truck in reverse backing back prudently.

"And Malcom!" He paused putting it in drive. "Thank you." He said heartwarmingly but at the same time feeling worried.

Malcolm just looked at him and then turned back to the road as he drove off down the road. Leaving a family to stare at his car fading into the thick woods.

Malcom remembered that day of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire anxious eyes pleading for help and to stay quiet. They knew their son wasn't right when he was little, but to go as so far to kill. They thought he'd grow up to fine young man, not a monster.

Malcom and Brahms knew each other for many years now it was almost like they were bothers.

Malcom got up from his bed with a sharp headache now. He felt groggy from the events of last night. Greta was probably still in her room sleeping, he didn't want to bother her, not now of course. She'll probably pack later to take her leave. He did love her, and he wanted her to stay, but he lied to Greta. He felt guilty and even worse she didn't even know the full story of what happened to him that day. He hated himself right now.

He got up to take a quick shower in his bathroom. After he had finished, he laid out his clothing for the day, and was ready to head downstairs. He stopped to see her closed door, he looked down sadly and continue his stroll to the bottom of the staircase. He went to the front and opened it quickly heading for his small barn. He feed his animals; he took care of them like they were his own children.

He never thought of being a dad until he met Greta. It was just a brief thought he had that quickly went away. He soon finished his chores around the house and headed back inside. He looked up the staircase seeing her door was still closed. He sighed as he walked to the kitchen. Maybe if he made some breakfast for her, she'd probably smell it and come down.

Malcom quickly got to work and started with the eggs, and then to the strong smell of fresh crackling bacon. Malcom set the table fast seeing it was almost ten o'clock. Placing the food on each plate carefully he had finally finished everything. He didn't know what to say though, he didn't have an excuse for what he did. He didn't even know where to start exactly.

Malcom took a long depressing sigh as he waited for Greta to wake up. Maybe she was already awake, and she just didn't want to come down. Maybe he should just go up there, he thought. Malcom pushed his chair back as he stood and went back to the staircase. He wanted to say he was sorry, he wanted to be forgiven, he never wanted to be a part of it in the first.

He made it to her front door at last, he hesitated, but knocked on it lightly.

"Greta are you up?" He asked but he knew she wouldn't answer him. "Listen I just… I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I was a real…, wanker, and a prat... a fool." He sighed.

"I don't deserve someone like you, and I don't deserve your forgiveness." He put his head against the wooden door sadly.

"I ju- I just want to make things right." He knocked again lightly. "Please, Greta, open the door." He waited patiently, but there was no answer, nor was there even I creek sound on the wooden floors.

"Greta?" He asked taking a hold of the doorknob carefully turning it to peek inside. He could see her bed, but no body. He opened it more and more until he was fully inside.

She wasn't here, he looked around the area stunned. Maybe she was in the bathroom he turned to her bathroom and flicked on the light. No one was here. Did…. did she really, leave, he thought. So fast that he didn't even hear or see her go. His heart sank to the bottom of chest as it hurt to breath now. Malcom went over to her drawers as he opened them slowly. Nothing was inside them, not even a forgotten sock of hers was left behind. Her stuff was completely gone. Out of his house forever.

He didn't even know how to contact her; he didn't know where she even lived in the Americas. He moved over to her bed seeing the sheets were folder nicely on top of one another. There was not even a note of any kind left for him to read. He thought she would at least leave something for him, no matter how mad she was, they were still… friends. The word friend felt bitter to his tongue, he wishes he had her for more, then just a friend.

The windowed was opened a crack letting in the cold crispy air. It caught his attention fast seeing the sheer curtains sway in the light breeze. He would never see her hair flutter in the breeze as they strolled down for long walks to the park. Greta was a giving person, she had faced many problems in her past, and even now after everything that has happened to her. She was a survivor in the end, she made it through harsh times. Yes, she was free, and she was going to have a life, even if he wasn't going to be in it. He still wished her all the love and happiness in the world, even if he could never tell her that, he hoped she knew anyways. He was going to miss her, very much. And how Greta would love to see the horses gallop on long grassy fields. The way she laughed at his dumb jokes. How they just got each other and understood one another. Her face made his day a brighter one than the day before. How she cared for others no matter what, it was in the goodness of her heart. Thinking back to Brahms, and the way she cared for him. She was the perfect choice, he thought. No wonder two men fell for her heart.

Brahms and Malcom fell for a woman they could never truly have in the end. He looked out the window with sorrowful eyes.

She left.

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Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5: Visions

Hi! Hope your enjoying my version of The Boy 2 so far lol! :)

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Enjoy and Comment! ;)

* * *

The car sped rapidly down the dark road. It was black as night with only gloomy clouds that covered the skies. There was no one in sight, as she drove fast to the hospital. Her breathing increased, her adrenaline was rising as she turned to look over him.

"Stay awake!" She shouted turning the car ahead heading to a main road now.

His body was limp, and his eyes were droopy. Blood flowed out like a river down his head. He wanted to speak but he couldn't. His body was hurting, and he felt completely drained.

"We're almost there." She said turning to look at his slowly fading vision. "Hey!" She shook his shoulder roughly to keep him awake.

"Greta… I can't…." His head fell forward slightly, but the seat belt was holding him back.

"Malcom!" She tried to shake him again, but his eyes wouldn't open. She huffed in frustration.

Greta took a turn finally reaching the front entrance of the hospital. There was no one around. She stopped the car abruptly making both their bodies jerk forward hard. Malcom's eyes vaguely opened. Greta saw and reached for him.

"We're here." She whispered. Malcom weakly looked her way.

"Greta I'm fine, I'm just tired." He argued.

"So am I, but if I let you sleep, I'm afraid you'll never wake back up. Now come on!" She opened her own door making her way around to him.

Greta opened it quickly taking a hold of Malcom arm, as she hoisted him up to his feet. He groaned as he took a hold of his head.

"He must've really hit me hard." Malcom walked with her.

"I know."

It had been an hour since Malcom was in the ER. She sat by his bed as he laid there unconscious. Greta would wait until he would wake up again. She didn't want to leave him alone. Her head was resting on her hand, Greta had been completely exhausted at this point. Too much as happened in such little time for her. Chaos always seemed to follow her everywhere she went.

Greta couldn't believe Cole was dead. Cole was a strong and dangerous man, who had been brutally mutilated by another strong and dangerous man. The image played over and over in her head. The picture wouldn't cease, the memory she now had would forever remain in her life.

Brahms was a real person; alive. She had been lied to by the Heelshire's. Remembering Mrs. Heelshire whisper in her hear before she left that day and never returned home. Had they really been living with their son in the walls this whole time. Why would they do such a thing to their own son, why would he be living in the walls at all? Her own questions only confused her more. Brahms was obviously unstable and mental ill on many crazy levels. She just didn't understand why he would fake his own death. Had he done something terrible; she questions. He did just kill Cole with his own hands, who knows what else he might be capable of doing. She didn't know him personality, nor did she want to just by seeing his true appearance.

She stabbed him as she made her escape, but something told her he wasn't fully gone. Greta had the feeling in the back of her head of always being watched now. The mansion was a complete waste now, it was stained with gruesome events that had happened for many miserable years.

She could hear Brahms dark voice calling for her in the walls. His true voice had emerged finally slipping from his cracked childlike voice. He killed so many people, she felt like she might cry any moment.

_If you leave I'll kill him! Just like the others!_

Greta held it in as best as she could only imagining what he had done throughout his whole life.

"Why the long face?" She looked up to a weakly smiling Malcom. Greta quickly stood up and rushed over to his bedside. Greta was silent for a moment from the relief she now felt forgetting about Brahms. She offered him a sweet smile with a small tear trying to seep out her eye.

"Hey." She whispered in a small nervous laugh. Malcom returned the favor.

"Hey." He tried to sit up but failed at the attempt. He took a sigh as he starred up at Greta again.

"Does anyone know?" He asked woefully. Greta looked down and over to the closed door of their room.

"No. I wanted to wait for you." She leaned and sat against his bed. Malcom took another long sigh as he thought. "So, what now?" She asked.

"I don't know." He huffed. "Frankly I don't know what to think right now." He sighed.

"I know, I mean I was living with a complete stranger all this time-"

"I know and thank goodness you're alright Greta." He interrupted quickly taking her hand into his carefully.

"Brahms is alive." She huffed a small sob. "I don't understand, I don't, I was taking care of a fucking doll for Christ sake, but instead I'm looking after a grown man I didn't even know existed until now." Greta became irritated as she sniffed a bit.

"Greta, it's ok. It's over and done with, we're nowhere near him. I'm not going to let him get to you." He squeezed her hand gently.

_Not this time._

Greta felt a little better as he consoled her.

"I should be the one comforting you, I mean… you're the one that got beat up." She smiled sadly.

"Hey now I did not get beat up, as I recall they were the ones fighting over you. And it seems I've won." He smirked as he chuckled quickly. Greta looked down as she blushed a tad.

"Hey who carried your ass all the way up here." She giggled. Malcom smiled as he looked up at her soothing eyes.

"You did. You came back for me." He said tenderly. "You have a kind heart, don't ever change that."

Greta smiled at him sincerely from his pleasant words.

"Are you alright?" She asked with raised brows.

"I'm fine. It's you that I'm actually quite worried about." He went to push himself up a bit. "You saw your ex being killed. I know you can't be feeling as good as I am right now." His face was filled with concern. Greta didn't answer right away which worried Malcom a bit.

"Actually…, I don't feel like how I should feel." She said slowly. Malcom looked confused for a moment as pondered on her odd answer.

"Well, what do you mean?"

Greta took a long pause to get her words in working order.

"I smiled." She hesitated but continue. "I smiled as we drove away. It was such an intense feeling that came over me I just- "She breathed. Malcom listened to her words sensibly.

"In a way, I was happy. In some sort of weird way, I thanked Brahms." Greta looked down not wanting to face Malcom. He only listened as he analyzed her statements. As much as he didn't want to, he understood what she meant.

"It was almost like…, you had a guardian angel this entire time, only…, you just didn't know it yet." Malcom said with sorrow in his eyes. Greta looked up from what he said. Brahms was her guardian angel, she almost laughed at the thought, but she couldn't find it funny enough to let out a laugh of some kind. Sadly, Brahms was trapped in the mansion's dim walls, all alone, and she had a feeling that that's something he most feared, judging by his irrational actions.

"So, I suppose you'll be wanting to head back home." He looked a bit disappointed but cover it up with a faux grin.

"Yeah." She breathed out tiredly. "I guess so." Malcom thought for a moment.

"Well." Greta looked down at him. "You're always welcomed to come and stay with me if you'd like." Greta only starred at him, with an unreadable expression.

"If you're not ready to face your parents yet of course." He said quickly shrugging his shoulders. Greta giggled at his nervousness, as she pushed her hair back before her ear.

"It's just my mother and my sister." She exhaled. "I miss them…, but I don't think I can face them yet." Malcom felt a beam of light go through him.

"I wouldn't be in the way, would I?"

"Never." He breathed out lightly.

Greta held his hand tightly as she inched closer to him.

"And don't worry, there's no one living in my walls." He smirked. Greta gave him a look that made him snicker.

"Thank you." Her voice was genuinely satisfied. Malcom looked into her eyes, he always loved how they gleamed in the light. Sometimes he wondered if she ever did that for anyone else.

"I think, um- we better call the bobbies." He stopped for a moment looking away from her captivating eyes.

"Even if he is dead or not, I think we need tell them what happened." He breathed out. Greta only nodded her head slowly in response. Malcom was about to get up but was stopped by her quickly.

"No, you rest Malcom. I'll do it." She pushed him back under his covers with care.

"I'll be right back, ok?"

He simply nodded as he closed his eyes to rest. Greta paced herself to the door opening it slowly as she looked back at a peaceful Malcom. She closed the door behind her as walked down the long echoing hallways. There were other patients there, some sleeping, and some were up and roaming about the levels of the hospital.

Greta continued her walk as she searched out for a pay phone of some kind. Suddenly catching her eye was a phone on the wall. She went to it quickly and place a few quarters in the large machine. Greta took a hold of the phone to her ear and type in the numbers fast. Only to hear the endless ringing begin. She kept her head down as she looked around casually.

Unexpectedly her eyes caught a child walking slowly down the hallways. It was a little boy; she couldn't see his face. He held a teddy boy close to his side. Greta looked back down but her eyes kept being drawn back to the young lad. He didn't look normal though and seemed kind of lost, she thought. Now she could see his face a little closer as he made eye contact with her as he ceased his slowly walking. Greta felt frozen as she looked back at the boy. His face seemed to be damaged and slightly burned on the top pulling back his side eye and face tightly.

Greta couldn't look away as she saw him. Suddenly guilt took over her as she shouldn't breath. She was seeing someone else that wasn't there. Her heart began to increase at the sight.

"Hello, this is the police department."

Greta almost dropped the phone from the man's loud voice as she looked down. She breathed deeply looking back over to the boy that was now walking with a nurse hand in hand back down the hall where he might've come from. Greta couldn't look away as she saw him slowly vanish.

"Hello?"

Greta couldn't bring herself to do it. She can't do it, she fought to talk but nothing came out. She hesitated almost passing out. She took the phone away from her ear and looked at it with an anxious gaze. She could hear the cops voice faintly as she hung it up fast, leaning her forehead against the phone machine.

_This was a mistake._

She couldn't move from her spot as she just breathed out slowly. She had tears forming in her eyes fast from the stress she felt beginning to grow. She collapsed against the wall. Her body slid down the wall as she rubbed her face. Her body hurt too much to get up and go back to face Malcom. She couldn't call the police; she couldn't bring herself to tell them about what happened…, about Brahms. Was she protecting him, did she feel guilt, she thought? She knows she would never see him again. Greta was more than ok with that outcome; she thanks him in her own way for what he did in the end, now returning the favor. The images would still forever haunt her though.

Greta knew he was alive in some way. She was glad she would never have to worry about going back to that nightmarish hell hole. She rather let him live in his own home at peace. She still felt that Brahms would never be able to find any type of peace if he remained alone for the rest of his days in the dreary walls. Thank god she wouldn't be alone, anymore.

Greta continued to sit as she closed her eyes wearily, resting her head on her hands. She felt so tired and just wanted to sleep everything away.

The only person who remained in the hallway around the corner was a little boy with a teddy bear watching her with a tilted head.

.

She held the necklace in her hand with simplicity, as she toyed with its pure crystal glow. It was late, and the moon was up as she glanced out the window from her bedside. Nothing but acres of land and thick woods of nature rustled in the cool breeze. She couldn't open the window to taste the clean the air, everything had been nailed shut tightly. Leaning against the bed frame, Greta took a long depressing sigh from fear and irritation. She didn't want to die here, not like this, not by the hands of Brahms.

Glancing at the old phone on the bedside table next to her she only starred at it with empty eyes. It's probably disconnected like the last time she tried to use it, she thought. Still with any luck she had lifted it up slowly anyways and put it to her ear only to hear dead silence.

"Of course." She muttered sarcastically, putting it down making the phone click back into place.

She took ahold of the necklace that laid around her neck once again. She couldn't believe it hadn't broken or fallen off after all the ruckus that happened with Brahms. Malcom's gift to her still rested peacefully around her smooth neck. She smiled as she looked at it with comfort. It heartens her for a brief second before remembering where she was. She might've been still annoyed with Malcom, but she still rather stay with him instead of a crazed man child.

Brahms still thought like a child, she wouldn't be surprised if he thinks he is a child. Even though Greta knew he used that as an advantage to make her feel remorse or guilt of some kind to lure her into his sick traps. He was not stupid; he knew everything that was going on in the house at all time. Brahms was the silent one who stayed back and watched everything happen, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Greta couldn't bring herself to fall asleep, she was hungry, and was beginning to grow an unpleasant smell. God, she thought, she didn't what to smell like him. Discussed run across her face at the putrid thought. She wished there was a bathroom in this area she was staying in. Everything had to be in the hallway of course, she felt annoyed not having it in her room.

Not having the slightest clue of where Brahms was located within his mansion, she had to use the bathroom. She slid down from the bed easily trying to make less noise. Greta strolled over to the door taking a firm hold of the old handle with a rickety breath. She turned it slowly only to let in a crack of light from the hallway inside reflecting off her large mirror. She looked around trying to see any form of Brahms. Luckily, he wasn't in the hall and she felt relief wash over her at last. She opened the door a little more making her way to the bathroom and shut it fast without making a sound. She locked it quickly from behind and ran to the toilet. She finished her business and looked quickly at the shower. The feeling of a nice warm shower would refresh her but was unsure if she should take a shower at all it might give off too much noise. Maybe he wouldn't hear it, she thought. Brahms might be all the way under the house in his basement room.

Ok, she thought, just a quick one and then straight back to your room. Greta got undress faster than she ever did before in her life. She jumped in swiftly and turned on the shower head quickly. She washed herself as thoroughly as she could considering the time, and Greta hoped she wasn't being watched.

Finally, she finished and snatched a seeming clean towel, tying it tightly around her slim frame. Quickly grabbing her old clothes and headed to the door as she unlocked it carefully. Cautiously Greta look both ways as her wet hair swayed from side to side, letting droplets of water land hard the carpet floors. Witnessing a now cleared hallway, she walked back to her room seeing her door was still open from before. She squeezed her body in effortlessly and shut it from behind. She went to the drawer right away and reached in for her old clothes she had left behind. Taking ahold of a pair of black stretchy pants and a plain blue shirt. She plopped it on the drawer and glanced up at her large mirror. Greta was about to drop her towel to the cold wooden floors.

Until fear struck her as she yelped aloud. She whipped her body around seeing a dark figure in the reflection near the corner on the other side of her room. She held her towel tighter now on her body for dear life. Her heart started to hurt as it beats hard against her bare chest. The water from her hair did nothing to cool her temperature down. Her eyes were wide from panic seeing Brahms was in her room. Suddenly feeling weak and vulnerable at the intense moment of witnessing him stood there motionlessly. Regretting now that she wished she had shut her door from behind making it seem like she might've been sleeping in her room when she was taking her shower. Sadly, it was much too late for that now.

"Brahms." She breathed out an unsteady breath. "You need to leave."

Brahms only glared at her from the other side of the room. He made what remaining air that was left in the room thick and dense. He didn't clench his fists, he didn't breathe as heavy, he only stare at her stiff and uncomfortable trembling body. He still wore his filthy clothing as he stood lanky.

"Brahms please, go to your room." She said aloud now which made him wake up from his coma like state.

Brahms began to walk slowly towards her. Greta stiffened even more but not daring to move. She felt like her legs were glued to the floor. Brahms prowled around the bed with a hunch as he came closer to her now. She could now see his one blood shot eye behind the cracked mask. His thick curls fell loosely over his forehead and dangled over his harden eyes. Brahms towered over Greta now as she looked down, she didn't want to meet his intense gaze. Greta's knuckles started to turn as white as a ghost as she held her towel securely.

"Brahms." She whispered so lightly she could hardly hear herself. Brahms looked down at her wet hair and dripping body. He only imagined her this way a thousand time before when he creeped through the walls, but now she was here in front of him. He wanted to know what she felt like, he wanted to love and take care of her like she always did for him. His heart was calm for the split second until his chest and eyes tightened a bit at her. His eyes narrowed seeing something on her chest, but her hand was covering it. Brahms was about to move her hand but was stopped abruptly.

"Brahms, go back to your room." Her voice was stern and more demanding. Brahms started to grow annoyed by her changed tone towards him.

"You brought me here to take care of you, right?" She looked him in the eyes now with her brows knitted tightly together. "And I am your nanny, so my word goes."

Brahms blood pressure only soared, he wanted to stay with her.

"You wouldn't disobey your mother and father now, would you?" She asked seeing his body language change. Hearing his mother and father becoming mad at him for going into her room, that he might be bad. But this is what he wanted, he wanted Greta, he wanted her comforting affectations just like the doll received. Why didn't she do that to him, he was here now.

"Brahms." He looked at her with intensity. "Go to bed, now." She didn't want to break any eye contact as she wanted to remain strong. Brahms didn't move a muscle he only wanted to try and understand why she didn't see him as the doll like before. Why couldn't she remember him? He was furious and distraught inside; he didn't want to leave and be alone. He wanted to get his way.

"Greta." His child like voice emerged from his dry throat. He was giving her wide imploring eyes from beneath his mask. She was his Greta and he would do what pleased him, she was his, no one else's, especially not Malcolm.

"Brahms. Go, now." She sounded furious now, his Greta was not happy. Brahms breathed heavy now hearing her words as he scowled down at her. They both glared at one another with severe and intense force of indignation until someone would break. This wasn't over it was far from it, Brahms needed to leave now before he would do something he would regret later. Turned his body slowly turned away from her stiffness. He grabbed the door knobbed and opened it halfway before turning back to her. He pouted beneath the mask at her one last time, she didn't motion for him to stay. He grunted in fury as he turned and slammed the door on his way out.

Greta jumped back slightly from the loud slam he created from the door. She had to catch herself on the drawer next to her, keeping her feeble legs up. Relief came fast but almost worry, thanking god he finally left. Placing her hand over her crazed beating heart that started to gradually soothe itself out.

Greta got dressed quickly as she threw her towel on the floor not caring were it really goes. She leaned against the bed sluggishly as she rubbed her face. Being stern and tough was the only way to get him to leave, she thought. She remembered that worked once before when she came back to rescue Malcom. It escalated quickly from there, becoming hectic from that point on seeing the disturbing images pop in her head.

She shook it off fast, if she was ever going to survive living with him until Malcom was going to find her, somehow. Greta just had to wait until the right moment to make for a successful escape, and hopefully make it somehow to Malcom or anyone for that matter. She just had to be patient.

Greta didn't lay under the covers that night, she held herself tight on the edge of the large cold bed.

.

Brahms threw anything he saw that laid near him. Items flying everywhere around the basement room as he growled in dissatisfaction. His heavy breathing could be heard from miles away. Sweat came down from under his mask and lead a trail down his overheating body. Brahms felt nothing but rage as he paced back and forth in his cluttered room. He threw off his dirty green cardigan hitting the filthy floor hard. Papers and broken objects laid everywhere. He pushed a broken chair out of his way harshly going up to his sink. His hands rested around the rim of the bowl and he hunched over it. Brahms turned on the water on quickly as it splashed out a bit from being on the full blast.

He took off his mask with ease even though the rage still flowed through him. Gently planting it next to him, as he starred back down at the running water. A mirror sat in front of him that he didn't dare look up at. His long thick curls covered his face from the heavy oils in his hair. Moisture dripped from the tips of his darken hairs on his face and head as he slashed the water harshly on his damaged face. He closed his eyes for a moment as he inhaled what air remained left in his dingy room. His back extended from his heavy breathing. He took his small towel with a tight grip patting his engraved skin. He took his mask without any hesitation and placed it firmly back onto its original setting.

The doll sat on his desk looking forward. Brahms didn't see anything but red as he was fuming inside. He walked away from his cleaning around and back near his bedding. Greta didn't give him what he wanted, and he hated that. He took care of her he brought her here to keep her safe. Away from everyone, a way from Malcom, a way from Cole. He did everything she wanted, why wouldn't she do anything in return. He would get his way one way or another. She was his and his alone.

Brahms glanced at the crack doll. He stopped and turned to its broken face. Was this what she really wanted, to take care of the child sitting here, but that was him, he thought. He almost felt sadness, but it just turned back into resentment. Everything that has happened to him he learned to just take it, this was the norm for him and his deceased family. It didn't faze him anymore, nothing ever did, even when he was little, but now that Greta was under his roof again, which was going to be for a very long time. He would take care of what his parents gave him, and he was happy they found her and brought her home again.

Brahms turned to sit on his small bed, hands folded on his lap with ease. He only breathed deeply as he sat there for what seemed like hours, waiting for the next day to begin. He took one last look at the doll that sat lifelessly on this desk. Then turned to his side seeing his pretty Greta laying lifelessly as well in his bed. Still wearing that same pretty pink dress. He was always very crafty as a child, he laid colors all over her arms bring her to life. He slept every night with her, it felt like she was there holding him till he had fallen asleep in her arms. He only stared at it seeing only her face. He felt the need to have her close to him always. He took a low sigh as he picked his long legs up and took off his trousers and dropped his suspenders. Leaving his tank top and boxes on him. He looked down at the bed as he crawled onto the doll. He caressed her as he laid his massive body weight onto it, holding it closely to him. He felt sensitive in his area as he lowered himself more into the doll.

"Greta." He moaned in a low tone as he saw her face. He didn't know anything other than to feel somewhat safe as he laid there. His side suddenly jabbed him harshly as he shut his eyes. He still felt angry from her stabbing him, he never forgot what she did to him that night. Besides just having a gentle kiss that he craved deeply. He felt the urge to touch her always, he's wanted her ever since she came back. Things would go back to the way they were original. Greta would come to except this and he would make sure of that. He needed her here with him, always. Just like before until everything took a turn for the worst. His Greta was home at last. Even though he still couldn't help but feel outraged at her too when he saw her with any sharp object.

He laid on her as he stretched legs dangled off the small bed. He held the doll tight as he closed his red eyes now only to see black.

.

He ran fast between the walls as papers and pictures flew all around him. They landed everywhere as he scurried in a panic. His body hitting the wall frantically trying to stay up as he ran for the cellar doors that led to the outside world. They were busted open by his intense strength creating a loud clanking as it broke open. He dropped everything and fell to the floor along with landing on glass from a frame. The glass image laid cracked in the grass, as he ran forgetting everything else that ever existed.

He ran into the thick woods pushing through large bushes. It was getting smoggier the further he entered its dark allure. He didn't know what he was look for, or where to go he just ran.

Suddenly seeing someone as he turned his head quickly to the side as the figure went behind the tree. He abruptly stopped falling forward slightly as he ceased everything he was doing. He was panting from exhaustion and sweat laid all over him as he now stood tall. He looked around noticing the figure was gone, he couldn't even see the mansion anymore. There weren't even any birds or animals to make a sound. He only heard the whistling of the wind grazing between the leaves in the massive dense trees. It was foggy now, but he could still see, even though he didn't see what he saw before. He thought he hear something, that someone he knew called him. He could hear the voice; it was that same innocent voice he once knew many years ago. It killed him that he couldn't see or hear anything now. Why did they leave, he thought, I'm here, just like they asked me?

The voices were silent all over again, he huffed in frustration as his eye pleaded for anything to appear, or just give him some type of a sign. That voice has been haunting him for years, there were many of them he heard, but one sounded like a calling. A calling for him, he needed to know, he didn't want to get his hopes up, especially if he saw something he didn't like.

He stopped moving and did what he did best. He stood nonetheless and listened. It became quiet as the wind had unexpectedly stopped. He waited for anything at this point. Until it happened.

_Brahms_.

The voice it sounded calm, and so young. He could only now hear the whispers faintly arise once more. He picked up his masked face catching a glimpse of someone appearing far away from behind the tree. A dress flowed as she walked into the haze. The figure started to disappear into the mist. That was his calling.

Brahms immediately sprinted into action and began to run again after the entity. Jumping over broken trees and ducking enormous branches. He could see her faintly as he continued to sprint. He had to see her, if he didn't do it now, he'd never get the chance again, even if it did come from his own head.

He huffed and groaned in determination to catch her. He could smell blood as he came closer to something rotting. Pacing by thick leaves of crimson blood that stained on their dark hues. The blood trail got bigger and bigger the closer he darted towards her.

He would never give up until he made it through the woods of unpleasant memories. He was so close as he saw the end of the dark dress vanish into the impenetrable fog engulfing in completely. Just reaching it he pushed through with full force.

_Stop_.

He ceased all movement at the voices command. His bare foot and toes felt like they were almost dangling off the ground. He began to look down slowly seeing the fog was slowly fading away just enough for him to see there was a cliff right below him. Water rested below the cliff; he didn't move as he just looked down towards its dour blue hues. Acres of land filled with colorful trees rested on the other side. He couldn't bring himself to look away, he starred at the water, feeling drawn to its unending falls. He moved closer as he started to lean forward into the air.

_Don't do it Brahms._

He stopped immediately at the voice. Was it her, the voice he had been hearing for years now, it's been haunting him for too long. He turned his head slowly only to see a girl hiding behind the tree as her dress flowed outwards gracefully. He couldn't see her face; it was covered by a long white flowing sheer hood. The white was leading down to black. He took a few small steps towards her. She only stayed close to the tree trying to stay hidden. Brahms wanted to speak but didn't have any words to say. He was confused and lost at the very sight in front of him. He didn't know what to feel, his emotions were running ragged.

_Do you remember this place?_

Her voice was so young and pure the way it flowed out like honey. Brahms was taken back by the question she had just questioned him with. He looked to his sides and then back to water as he took a glance down at it. He nodded his head ever so slightly at her question. He did remember this place, even if he did try to forget. Anything to make the pain and suffering go away.

_I've watched you, every day. Just as you've always watched me._

Brahms began to inch himself up.

_That day it happened, you felt nothing but contentment, why is that Brahms?_

Brahms stopped as he starred at the soft figure. He didn't know how to answer.

_Why must you be quiet now, after everything that's happened. You're the reason I'm not here._

Brahms blood rushed hard to his head; her words did not go unheeded. Without thinking he jolted his body forward at the figure trying to grab ahold of it. It only went behind the tree fully as it disappeared not reaching the other side. Brahms saw nothing as looked frantically whirled around the tree. His breathing increased tremendously.

_You know I'm right. The body may no longer remain, but it still rests here._

Brahms looked down seeing the blood had escape from within the tree like sap. It didn't faze him in the least as he stared down at it with a blank expression.

_Brahms, don't you see, that's why I'm gone. You feel nothing._

He could hear her right behind him as he whirled again with a sharp growl but faced nothing. He moved forward into the woods but was stopped by a crow screeching loudly as it flew past him very closely. It only starred down at him as it landed on a high pine branch. He glared at its dark feathered black eyes. He loathed animals when he saw them.

_A bad omen._

He turned to see her standing a few feet away from him. His shoulders were hunched over as he walked cautiously over to her statue like body. She didn't move as she let him approach her. He wanted to see her.

"Why can't I see you." He groggy voice was deep and dry. He starred down at her only seeing the top of her hooded head. She remains still as him gawk down on her.

_You will. Just not now._

Brahms felt impatient he wanted to see the face that's been haunting him.

"Let me see you." He sounded demanding and irritated as he didn't get what he wanted.

_Brahms, how can you see me, if you don't know what I look like._

Brahms felt confused by her questioning. She began to turn away from him with ease. Brahms didn't want her to go, he'd never see her again. He knew it was the girl he loved and obsessed over all those years ago. She body looked more mature, but she still sounded young in her voice. He knew her once in his lifetime, he had to see her again. He didn't know what she looked like, it was really all a blur to him.

"Please…, don't… leave me." He struggled to get out his words in a low cracking voice.

The figure only turned back slightly to meet his pleaded gaze for her to remain.

_So, find me._

.

Brahms had awakened with shock as his body shot up fast. He was sweating and breathing uncontrollably. He looked around but saw nothing. He jumped off the bed and put his pants and suspenders back on tightly. He took the doll Brahms with him and he went through walls quickly reaching to the top levels. He could see a little bit of light seep through the walls from the outside world. It was still early but the sun would be rising soon. He held the doll closely making it to his childhood room. He crept out from the hidden doorway on the side of wall. As silent as he was, he put the doll back into its bed safely. He would let the doll rest and stay safe in its bed for a long time.

Brahms had Greta all to himself and he would wait until she would awake, which would be very soon. He wouldn't be as patient with her like these last couple of nights. He wanted to do what he pleased with her. Brahms has been waiting to snatch her up into his arms. He didn't like taking no for an answer from her, it only egged him on more to do it again.

Telling a child, no, can cause mayhem within these walls.


	6. Chapter 6 - Rat

Hi! Hope your enjoy everything so far! Read carefully in this story ;) ENJOY! New Merch Of Brahms X Greta yaztheangel on my ETSY!

* * *

He followed her everywhere she went throughout the entire day. He kept a close eye on her every move. The house had eyes everywhere on it, there was no escape for her. She couldn't even make it to the door without being spotted immediately by the demented man himself. Fear was never a good feeling, but to live on it daily was torturous. Greta couldn't stand the feeling of him lingering on her back like a foul leech. She felt suffocated as always by his intense breathing, and towering stance. It's only been a couple of days having been miserably long. It felt like an eternity. Greta would do anything to have some fresh air to inhale, and not have to smell the repellant odor radiating off his body.

She had her roomy navy-blue sweater on feeling the coldness spread rapidly throughout the dark manor. She walked down the long hall with Brahms not far behind. Her hands were like ice as she reached for the two giant doors. She opened it with one gentle push. She walked into the library where the piano laid at peace. She glanced back at the sound of the doors that had been softly click shut by Brahms. The drapes were covering the massive elegant windows. The large room was a bit dark, for a second, she couldn't see Brahms entirely. Her heart raced a little, she turned to the long drapes and slid it wide open. The milky white light had brought life back to the beautiful room. She didn't think she'd ever be stepping foot into this room again.

Greta went to the other two windows and slide the drapes aside as well. It wasn't sunny out, as the clouds covered its previous heat from entering the room. The weather up here was always unpredictable, reminded of Mrs. Heelshire's words, she said there were many problems when it came to the weather where they lived. She sighed quietly to herself as she looked out at the windows seeing the many large trees rustled in the steady wind. She put her hand on her necklace again moving it from side to side on the silver chain.

She turned her head only to see Brahms broad slouched back starring intensely at the vast bookshelf. Books laid everywhere in stacks on the floors and tables. They must've been big heavy readers considering the thickness of each book she came across. Brahms's body was as still as a statue, arms dangling stiffly to his sides, he was reading the titles on the sides of each book thoroughly.

Greta stood there uncertain of what to do, she quickly tucked her necklace under her sweater. She crossed her arms over her chest tightly, should she go next to him, or just leave him to his unending predictable gawking. Greta decided not to get involved. She turns away and looked around with caution as she scanned the room. Taking in every detail, pacing slowly around the large Victorian couch. She took a quick glance back towards Brahms seeing he hadn't moved from his position. She turned back only to look up at large old paintings, and more stuffed dead animals hanging high up near the ceiling. The large room hadn't changed the last time she was in it, everything was still intact surprisingly. Mostly coming across massive birds with sharp talons and beaks that stuck to the extended walls. One bird that could her eye was a vibrant black and white hawk with piercing orange-red eyes. It must've been so graceful as it once soured there the skies and hid mysteriously amongst the deepened forests. She thought they only killed the vermin that scurried within the house, apparently it was beautiful things too they ended.

The sound of a static scratch startled Greta as she turned towards the noise. Brahms had placed one of those old records on a very low volume. It sounded like old violins playing softly in the background. Brahms starred at it for only a moment before walking back over to the shelfs. Greta paced herself around the couch as she glanced back at him yet again. His arm finally lifted from his side and carefully retrieved a book from its tight space. He slides it out slowly taking it in both hands reading over the cover. Greta stepped just a bit closer but paused, she didn't want to get to close his side.

He turned around catching Greta's wide eyes with his broad ones. Book in both hands but said nothing to her. Greta used all her strength to project her own voice.

"Would you like me to read that to you Brahms?" She asked calmly. Brahms didn't move for moment as he only tiled his head slightly to the side. He seemed to be thinking briefly before he gave her a slight nob.

"Here." She extended her hand tentatively towards him. "I'll read it to you." Brahms slowly let one of his hands down with stillness and the other loosely holding the book. He handed it to her as she took it carefully from him. She didn't want to accidentally graze fingers with him. She wanted as little contact with him as possible. She took it in both her hands as well, Brahms peered down on her interest as she quickly skimmed the back of the small book. Quickly observing it be a children's book.

The title was called 'Tom's Midnight Garden', it was rather an old book from created in the 50s and it was set in the United Kingdom. She was in England after all, that's probably all he ever read was old classic English books since he was young. She was hesitant at first and turned her head towards the couch as Brahms did the same. He took the first step as Greta kept her head down a bit. Slowly seating himself down on hard plump couch with his hands resting on his long legs. Greta took a steady breath as went to sit as well. She didn't want to get too close to where there might be some contact. She looked even more uncomfortable now as she seated herself awkwardly as well. Brahms watched her every move as she took her hold. There was an extended space, another person could practically sit between them. She didn't dare look at him as she looked down vaguely pushing back her hair back behind her ear. She could feel Brahms intense gaze washed over her; she could hear his heavy breathing all over again. Sometimes it was just too much to handle even if he didn't do anything out of the ordinary for once.

Greta sat up a tad and she quickly cleared her somewhat dry throat.

"Tom's Midnight Garden." She turned the small books pages reaching to the first chapter. She was about to speak and announce the first sentence of the story until her arm was squeezed tightly. Her head shot to the terrifying masked man next to her. His eyes were as wide as her as they both starred strongly at one another. Confusion struck her once more by his capricious behavior towards her. She was reading the book to him like he wanted, she thought. Did he change his mind on his pick, Greta felt a little panic began to grow inside her chest now. Only to feel the throbbing around her clamped arm begin to increase. She didn't want to whimper or show any signs of pain she was feeling, he didn't know his own strength that's for sure, she thought.

Suddenly, she was gradually being pulled over, over to him. Greta stumbled forward a bit from the unexpected action. Her body was now next him, close, closer than she'd like to be. Greta kept her legs together, desperately trying not to connect with his. He released her arm leaving a red hand mark indicating how hard he grabbed her fragile body.

The contact was indeed tighter now, his body was taller than hers even as he sat on the couch. Greta felt so small next to him as he appeared over her. Greta licked her lips nervously from the drought she felt in her throat. He placed his hands back onto his own lap nonchalantly once more. He didn't do anything now, he just waited patiently looking Greta's way. She took a shaky breath but tried to remain unruffled as she turned the pages once again.

"Chapter 1."

She had been reading the book for what felt like hours now. Brahms only listened intently at every word that escaped her lips. Reading on about a young boy named Tom that wakes up when the clock strikes three and a secret garden appears in the Victorian British society times. Where he meets a young girl within the peaceful gardens. Greta peeked her own interest in the children's story line, but her voice was getting weary. She felt the need to stand up soon and stretch. Brahms didn't move once from his spot; he gazed over her. He listened to her words starring at her every once and awhile. He could smell her dark chestnut hair as it seeped its way between the cracks in his mask.

Greta had come halfway through the book, deciding it might be good place to stop there. She closed the book softly.

"I think.., that's a good place to stop for right now." She placed the book back down on her lap graciously. Brahms only gazed at the side of her face. She kept it down sensing he wanted eye contact from her. Greta took an uneasy breath.

"It's a good book." She shrugged slightly with a small smile. Brahms didn't respond to her comment as he bent down a little closer to her. Greta knew this, her shoulder came up instantaneously on instinct. She tried to hide the disgust she held from within. The man himself was very clingy towards her incessantly.

"Brahms I-I-" She stuttered quietly as he kept his masked face close to her ear and hair. His hand started to leave his lap as it was about to land onto hers. Greta's anxiety kicked in, she had to think fast. Anything to get him to back off.

"Brahms! I- I have to clean out the traps." Her voice was a bit louder than she meant for it to be. Brahms ceased in his doing. He didn't get the chance to touch her. Greta turn her body away from him slightly as she faced him from her side. She cleared her throat.

"We don't want them to get into the walls, do we?" She asked holding the book tightly. Brahms didn't move as he seemed to be thinking. He narrowed his eyes at her, Greta couldn't imagine the harsh look he must've been giving her beneath his mask. He shook his head painfully slowly at her. It was almost like a death warning he offered her. Greta only felt more baffled, and extremely disappointment. She hoped he'd say yes, but was she kicking. She, being able to go outside, or maybe even make a run for it if she got the chance. She'd have to knock him out somehow, she thought. Greta still had to think things through though, she couldn't just wing it and hope for the best. She was praying for him to say yes, but sadly she knew he was smarter than that. She had to get him to trust her, which wouldn't be the easiest task in the world.

"But Brahms, it's on the list." Her face was bit eager as she tried to reason with him. Unfortunately, there was no reasoning with him. Brahms only looked down at her harshly with unforgiving eyes. Greta knew this topic wouldn't go anywhere, there wasn't any point in pushing it forward. Avoiding pissing him off even more than he was already. He knew she would do something to try and leave him again. She had to stay here, safe.

Greta took a short sigh from her miserable failure.

"Well, how about some food?" She asked taking a stand from the hard couch. "I'll put it in the freeze for you."

Brahms looked up at her for a moment and began to stand as well. He almost made it past her height before his breathing hitched hard, and suddenly fell forward towards the floor. Greta tried grabbing his arm that was reaching for her weakly. Brahms had fallen to his knees cruelly as his back arched forward. His hand held his lower side tightly. She could hear him slightly groan in a low voice trying to hide his true voice.

"Brahms what's wrong?!" She asked quickly as her brows knitted together. She hadn't even realized she was holding his hand, he squeezed it tightly. She didn't understand why she even asked or cared if he was alright. He kidnapped her, took her from everything she knows, but still finding it in her heart to ask him anyways. His back extended out from his deep inhales. She couldn't see what he was holding or if this was a sick trick, he played to lure her into him. His head was low not even facing Greta's questioning one.

"Here." She extended her other hand out to him. "Let me see." Brahms eyes shot towards her unkindly making her stop dead in her tracks. His eyes were like the fire that was once set in the house. Fuming with rage, and the hurt that lingered on his side was done by the hands of his devotion. Greta only sat there on one knee by his side, leaving her bewildered as to why he pushed away her generous offer. She didn't understand what caused the solid man to fall in such a weakened statue. Greta hesitated for a moment as she tried to find the right words to say to him.

"I can lift you up, but you have to be a good boy and help me." She whispered to him keenly with soft doe eyes. Brahms only looked to the elegant carpet on the floor as she heard him take a deep sigh.

His hand remained stitched to his pain, as Greta stood up before him. Her hand in his securely as she lifted him up gently. Her other hand planted under his arm as she tried to hoist him up to his bare feet. Brahms almost made a small hissing noise as he stood somewhat tall once more. Before she could even see the problem, he stormed off as he yanked his arm away from her grasp. It was like he didn't even know she was holding his hand. The doors slammed open from his unknown fury as he exited without even looking back at Greta's perplexed stance.

Greta jumped from the loud sound that echo throughout the room. She could hear him walk off quickly and then the only thing she can hear was the soft sounding violin playing in the background. Greta stood there speechless and dumbfounded by him, she felt like she was talking to a wall most of the time anyways. Glancing down at the fallen book, she must've dropped it before even realizing it before Brahms had collapse to the floor. She quickly picks it back up as she looked at it once more, before placing it back into its original spot on the dark shelfs. She lifted the headshell from the record player making a small screech noise. The room was dead silent again, just as she'd predicted.

The sun was low, it would soon set and let the darkness once again rise with its dreary skies. Greta cleaned the dishes she had made from the simple dinner she had prepared. Her hair was tied back letting her small ponytail sway from side to side as she moved. She dried each wet dish, stacking one on top of the other and placing them back into the upper cabinets securely closing everything up for the night.

She wiped her forehead from a few drops of sweat trickling down her face. She wiped it with a rag as tossed it next to the sink. She turned and leaned against the counter as she rubbed her face tiredly. She had already put Brahms's food in the freezer, and she ate hers as she was cooking. The kitchen was warm from the heat of the oven as it filled the room completely. It would soon fade though, and the cold would rise once again in vengeance.

She didn't care where or what Brahms was doing now as she walked out of the kitchen finally. She hoped she wouldn't be seeing him for the rest of the night. Pacing down the hallway she glanced around the large rooms she had to pass through. The massive living room, so she thought it was, had a grand fireplace. Her eyes widened at the fancy old sight but kept moving forward to the staircase. She began to walk up; she felt a little over heated, considering it was cold outside. She took off the oversized sweater yanking it off over her head. Her ponytail loosened a little but pulled to thick strands of her hair making it tight again. She now just had her regular black V-neck T-shirt on. Her sweater dangled to her side letting the sleeve drag up on the wooden staircase. She knew she'd regret letting a bit of coolness gently touch her skin.

Greta made it to the top finally, taking a hold of her pendent on her necklace. She swayed it on the chain from side to side creating a small squeaking sound. She was almost content as she was about to turn the corner but stopped in her tracks. Whenever the air felt dense in this place it was never a good sign. It was almost as if she knew where he was now. Her face was down a bit as she turned slowly peering over her shoulder. She was right. Brahms was behind her but wasn't as close as she'd suspected him to be. He must've come out into the hall through one of his secret passageways. Suddenly Greta felt a little uneasy and naked now as she turned fully to him.

"Hi." She said quietly. "Hope you're feeling better." She released her pendent from her hand, letting it fall to her chest. She didn't expect a respond from him, he only spoke when he wanted to, which was hardly ever. Even if he did speak, he'd still portrayed himself as a young boy. Brahms only stood tall with his neck forward slightly. He seemed to be fixated on her, but not towards her big eyes.

"I uh, left your food in the freeze. So, I'm going to turn in now Brahms." She said softly as she scratched the back of her ear. She didn't want to make too much eye contact with him as she kept all sights hovering down awkwardly.

"Goodnight." She sighed as she turned on her heels and began to walk to her room. She was abruptly stopped by a firm grasp on her wrist. Greta's body jerked back a bit from the sudden pull as her face fell from the feeling of fear. She snapped her head at him. He leaned forward a bit as Greta tried to keep a minor distance between them, even though the hold on her wasn't helping right now.

"What's wrong?" Was all she could think to ask him, as confusion filled her mind. His hold wasn't as tight as she'd thought it would be though, but she still couldn't escape from his grasp. His eyes were glossy as he stared down at her innocent face. He pulled her body carefully to fully face him with ease, it still startled Greta though greatly. He tilted his head as they glazed at one another. Suddenly, a light shined in his one bloodshot eye. His eye lid twitched a bit, he shot down a glare to the necklace laying peacefully around her neck. He had been trying to see it for some time now, but Greta always seemed to be trying to hide it from his view. He could feel his body begin to tense up rigidly, as his eyes enlarge at the pendent.

_"So, tell me about Brahms." She huffed, as she holds the pool stick close to her side._

_"I told you all I know."_

_"Wow. That was a truly terrible poker face." She smiled. Malcom laughed at her joke._

_"Alright, what would you like to know?" He asked taking a seat._

_"What was he like? The real Brahms." She corrected herself but was serious on her questioning. Malcom took a sigh shaking his head in thought._

_"You need to know there are two types of talk in town. There's polite talk and pub talk, you know, and the truth is somewhere in between."_

_Greta thought for a moment. "Ok what's the polite talk?"_

_"Uh, that he was a lovely lad, it was a tragedy that he was taken at such a young age."_

_"And the pub talk?" She whispered curiously holding the pool stick close to her face._

_"Well, he wasn't such a lovely lad, he was downright strange."_

_The voices seeped through the intercom leading down the long pipes and into the depths within the dark manor. He walked furiously as flames flew through his body. In his hand held a black jacket giving it a severe hold on the collar. The first rule of the manor was no guests. She didn't stick by it; she didn't follow the rules. His rules. Malcom had left his jacket near the front door when he came in. He was supposed to just deliver the groceries and then leave. The sight of him entering his home after hours enraged him, and even more knowing that he was with his Greta. He couldn't do anything about it though, he didn't want to risk being seen. He hated that Greta was up there with him, alone. It only annoyed him more at the vile thought._

_He threw down the jacket on his desk with disgust, and hatred creating a small clanking noise with the metal on the jacket as it met the table. So far it wasn't going to well for him, she hadn't followed a single rule in this mansion. He was hungry, and a mess, and angry, not at her, but at himself. He wished he could get Greta to believe he was really here with her._

_He huffed in frustration, as he snatched the jacket once again going through each pocket. Finding a leather wallet, Brahms opened it quickly seeing Malcom's face on his driver's license. Brahms scowled down at the small photograph. He pulled out a few credit cards, and his business cards to his grocery store. He turned the wallet and opened its slit to see money inside, at least a couple hundred rested in there. Brahms wasn't phased by the sight of money; it had of no value to him or to his interest. He had so much already he didn't know what to even do with it. He couldn't go out and buy things like his mother and father did in the past. Money was never really a problem for them, either way Brahms never cared about wealth in the first place. All he cared about was his Greta, he wanted to know everything she is doing, where she was going, what she liked and didn't like had interested him greatly. He was enamored with her, his obsession escalated more and more throughout days as he watched her. He was always such a curious person. His past nannies, he didn't care to even care about them. He had no interest for them, not one. They were older, much older than Greta, and definitely was not a sight for sore eyes. Rather they didn't bother to even touch the doll or doing anything at all except lay around his house waiting for a paycheck to land in their crummy hands. When their job was done for the night they left happily with their money, and he'd hope they'd never return to his home again. His mother and father would come home after going out to have a good night to themselves without him._

_He remembered one day his parents hired a different nanny to watch over him. He assumed the other old bat wasn't on the market this week. This one was a bit different; he recollects at the sight when he saw her. She was tall and skinny, and her hair was disheveled. He saw she wear a very large blue coat landing almost to the carpets on the floors. Brahms saw them talk and showed her Brahms his doll, the reaction was just as any other, which never surprised him in the least. She wasn't that pleasant to look at though, her face wasn't nice, he thought. Well, considering his own, he shouldn't talk._

_They went back downstairs as the ratty woman followed them to the front. Brahms could hear her overpowering cockney accent through the walls. She was loud, he thought, too loud for his taste. He still hoped this one would at least follow the rules and not like the last one. He followed them within walls finally making it to the front. He could see his parents leave, as his mother had seemed to of already handed the woman the doll. She held it loosely in one arm as she saw them drive off, and then closed the doors._

_Brahms watched her closely as she walked to the windows looking outside for a while. Brahms vaguely arched his tight brows up under his mask. They were already gone, why is she still looking outside._

_Suddenly he could hear another vehicle squeaky break emerge in the front of this house. Brahms quickly went to another part within the walls to see the outside world. He jolted to the higher levels and sped over to a room. Reaching to the nearest window he looked through it with caution. He could see a black van in the front entrance, the doors swung open fast as two man jumped out looking about their surroundings. Brahms didn't like what he was seeing, not one bit._

_Suddenly he heard laughing coming from below, he ran fast back into walls and down to the main area. He could hear the doors slam open and he jerked his body to the nearest peep hole downstairs closest to them. One bald heavy-set fellow, and one skinny tall guy with a cap on his head. They both wore gloves all in black and large bags by their sides._

_"Oi, where's the lad?" The fat guy asked the woman._

_"Oh please, there blood crazy thinking their son is this doll." She laughed, jiggling the doll. "He's dead, probably killed himself thinking he'd have to stay with these stupid blokes."_

_"Yeah, a bunch of rich blokes." The tall skinny guy said looking up the staircase. "I don't think he'll be missing his stuff." He hollered making it echo from his loud footsteps and voice as he ran up. The heavy man gave the woman a sneer._

_"Are you sure we're alone?" He asked. The woman held up one of the dolls arms to wave at him. The man only rolled his eyes as he turned away in annoyance moving to the next room down the hall. The woman cackled as she whirled in sloppy circles with the doll._

_"Now Brahmsy boy what shall we steal today?" She stopped dead in her tracks and tossed the doll on the chair. "Take the lot you say, why thank you, I dare say I will." She snorted as she walked up the stairs to where the other man went._

_Brahms came from around the corner seeing the doll on the chair laying messily. Brahms eyes harden and raged filled him. He never felt like this, something felt different, he had an urge. He knew this feeling once before, many years ago. The words repeated in his head over and over again._

_No. Guests. Allowed._

_The skinny guy was going through Brahms things flinging everything around recklessly. He didn't seem to be finding anything he'd like to rob at the moment. He picked up a dog toy with wheels on it._

_"Bloody toys." He muttered, hurling it hard to the floor. He stomped out walking swiftly down the hall to the next room. A noise irrupts from behind the man, he stopped in his tracks. He scrunched his face in confusion and turned. His sight immediately descended to the toy going in circles on its big colorful wheels. The mans creased his brows at the toy he tossed in the little boy's room. He could've sworn it was on its side when he threw it to the wooden floor._

_He walked over to it was long legged steps, as he got closer to the toy it was opposite of the open door to the boy's room. He turned away from the door and bent down to his knees slowly. The toy was rolling its way towards him. He picked it up carefully and turned it over to see the bottom, maybe there were batteries still working in it, he thought. Turning it over to only see the initials of 'B.H'._

_"What the-"_

_Deadly wires came fast around his neck as he gasps in shock. He's being pulled back harshly. He couldn't see what had him from behind as he tried to grab ahold of the thick wires squeezing his shutting throat. Brahms pulled him back with such force into his room as he slammed the door shut. Leaving the toy to roll itself down the rest of the hallway._

_The ratty woman was looking through the old antique jewelry boxes eagerly. She stopped for a second hearing a door slam shut hard from the hall. She crumpled her brows._

_"Oi! What the bloody hell are you doing wankers we don't have all day!" She yelled through her closed door storing more of his mother's jewelry in her large coat pockets._

_He jerked the man's body around wanting to make him suffer. The wires were almost cutting through his skin. The man gasp for air as he tried to grab anything in range to help him escape. Brahms kicked the back of the man's knees making him plunge forward. Brahms pulled the wires so tight that his own hands were beginning to bleeding, but he felt no pain arise from it. The mans mouth laid wide open from the unending pain that seared through him. Suddenly hearing a snap echo throughout the room. The man eyes turned crimson as his veins popped out violently. Brahms had shattered the man's neck leaving him lifeless._

_Brahms dropped the body to land on the floor face down. Brahms was breathing so heavy he couldn't hear himself think. His veins were pulsating with rage from every side of his towering body. He let the blood on his hands drop, his eyes were so black, he only felt the darkness consume him once again._

_The fat bold man walked into the rest of the rooms lazily. Looking around seeming uninterested at his surroundings. He had now entered the kitchenette. He opened the fridge and saw a beer; he grabbed it and opened the top cap with his eye. Releasing the cold air from its compact glass. He took a big gulp as he placed it on the large kitchen table. He looked up at the cabinet's and opened them all not bothering to close them. Suddenly his eyes widened._

_"Bingo." He muttered, pulling out two massive bottles of Kit's Coty Coeur de Cuvee, a very expensive wine, and was worth a lot of pounds here in England. He smirked at the sight of precious aged red wine. He could already smell the money running up his big nose. He turned but stopped to see the same doll from earlier sitting in the chair at the head of the kitchen table. His mouth dropped open lazily, and unimpressed. He huffed a chuckle._

_"How'd you get here?" He placed the bottle of the countertop carefully. He walked over to the doll slowly as he looked down at it._

_"Just imagine, this would've been all yours, all of it. The mansion, the land…, the money." He sneered._

_"Too bad. What a waste. I always thought you were a cute fucker." He smirked at the doll. He turned around slowly to retrieve his beer._

_His eyes snapped open as the bottle collided with his temple. Smashing into a million pieces landing on the tiled floors._

_"GAHH- The fuck!" He cried with anger catching himself on the table. His eye was shut as the other tried to stay open. Glass was now planted in his head._

_"Hey!" He yelled trying to throw a punch at the huge blurry figure. "Stay away or I'll cut off your balls!"_

_Brahms watched his head and eye bleed out like a running river. He didn't like this man, not one bit. His sight was off as he now saw blurry doubles coming towards him. The man reached for something anything on the counter, suddenly taking ahold of a knife. He struggled to hold it at first but got a firm grasp on it._

_"Stay back!" He yelled waving the knife around frantically. Brahms backed up a bit avoiding being stabbed or impaled by his weapons. He cocked his head at the weak parasite standing before him._

_The man began to charge forward towards Brahms. Brahms eyes narrowed at him, then quickly glanced to his right seeing the wide cabinet door. The man was about to stab him. Unexpectedly Brahms kicked the lower cabinet open hitting the man's legs hard making his stop and shriek. Brahms quickly took ahold of the top cabinet and swung it open with all his might. Smashing it against the man's face with such force causing his to fall to the floor with a bloody nose._

_"Damn it!" He coughed up blood. Brahms quickly jumped on him aiming for his neck. The man swiped the knife halfway into Brahms arm making him grunt at searing pain, but not either to scream. Brahms pulled the knife from his arm fast and inserted it forcefully through the mans hand reaching the wooden cabinet on the other end. Keeping him trapped and unable to move without tearing his hand apart completely._

_"NO-no-no wait! Please!" He pleaded holding up his other hand in fear as he sobbed. "We'll leave!"_

_Brahms was so enraged that he only despised and pitied the fat man's worthless begging to be sent free of his hold on him, Brahms he showed no mercy. He didn't hear his cries or his words. Quickly grabbing the massive wine bottle on the counter and lifted it over his head as he looked down at the revolting man he was about to end. The man only saw a dark figure tower over him as he wept._

_"No wait plea-"_

_The only thing left was the two crimsons fusing together as it seeped between the cracks of the tiles._

_The woman emptied out all the jewelry boxes that Brahms's mother had from past down generations. Diamonds, pearls, and rubies laid over the wretch's body. Shoving the remains, she had stolen into her large coat pockets, burrowing them deep inside. She opened the door to take her successful leave._

_"Oh boy's!" She hollered enthusiastically leaning over the wooden railing. She could only ear her echo spread down the manor. Her face looked questionable, maybe they didn't hear her, she thought. Who wouldn't her, she was so loud that the people from Mississippi could hear her calls. She walked down the grand staircase making her high heels click vociferously on the smooth wood._

_"Helloooo!" She called annoyed. "Wankers!" She yelled stomping her heel on the ground. She walked into the next room in a huff but saw nothing but a pool table. She grunted in disbelief._

_"If you think I'm splitting the bloody profits, then you must be out of your minds loves!" She continued her search walking frantically throughout the mansions main level._

_"UH….., men, they never answer." She muttered through her teeth._

_"If you two don't come out, I'm taking the va-" She ceased all movement as she starred down in shock mixed with fright. She screamed._

_"Oh my god! What the fuck- guhh-" She gaged at the sight of man's head smash in on the kitchen floor. The messed laid everywhere. She fell back on the floor and tried to pick herself up franticly. She shrieked as she turned back the way she came as fast as she could. She wanted to run to the front door and make her escape for good._

_She abruptly stopped as she saw the door was blocked by a large chair with the doll sitting in it comfortably. Her eyes began to water as she was so scared, she thought she might pass out right there. He held the rules on his lap as an emphasized bloody circle laid around 'No Guests'. She cried out in agony and she turned back. She tried to find another way out she went to the window and tried to open them with all her might. Each window was always sealed tightly. She tried to breath as she cried hysterically. Suddenly the woman saw a candle stick and snatched it. She smashed the window open, as it broke very easily from the candle sticks heavy metal weight. She pushed her slim body through the broken window, getting some cuts on her arms and legs._

_"Help me! Somebody help me please!" She screamed desperately. She ran around the house, wanting to get to the van somehow. She yelled for someone to hear her, but no one was around. Suddenly shards of glass exploded from above as a body was thrown out a large window. The woman looked up but fell back from the sight. The mans body fell hard hitting the small side roof and then landed on the unforgiving concrete. His broken neck was twisted to only stare dead bloody eyes on her._

_"Oh my god Mark!" She cried out. "No! Please god no!" She sobbed. She looked up quickly to see a dark figure stare down at her._

_"Oh god." She muttered going over to the dead man's pockets and retrieved the keys. She glanced back up quickly only to see no one there. She cursed aloud as she ran to the van and jump inside as fast as she could. She shut the door and put the keys in fast._

_Doors were abruptly slammed open from the entrance. She turned her head only to see a terrifying, tall, bloody masked man. She shrieked as she saw him run towards the car. She pressed the gas and drove off making a circle and was about to exit._

_Brahms ceased his movement and he now stared at the driving car and waited patiently. The woman looked back franticly to see if he was following, but what she didn't see was a trip hidden beneath the leaves waiting just for her. She looked back and was about to head for the main exit._

_The cars tire made a terrible pop noise as a large bear trap clamped down on her tire destroying it completely. Her wheel moved on its own rapidly turning into the woods. The trap ate the whole left side damaging everything underneath. The van collided with a thick pine tree making it shiver off some of the dead pine needles. The air bags were deployed immediately as her face slammed into it; smoke escaped the engine. She lifted her head slightly as she looked out the rearview mirror with double vision forming into one._

_The dark figure had gotten bigger and bigger every time the smoke casted over him. She began to reconnect as she saw him. She quickly pushed open the broken car door and she tried to make a run for it. She needed a phone anything to get in connect with some sane people. She cried for help as she ran around the side of the house._

_Suddenly she was yanked back harshly by the collar of her coat. The diamonds and gems escape from the deep pockets flying free into the air. Brahms snapped as he saw his mother's most precious possessions in the hands of filth. Brahms threw her to the solid ground as the gems had fallen with her. He grunted and breathed heavy in anger. He wanted to take this woman's worthless life away doing the rest of the world a huge favor. Someone like her was indeed bad and didn't deserve any remorse from him as he was about to take away her meaningless life. She should've followed the rules._

_"Get off me! Help me please!" She called to no one as Brahms's powerful hands snaked around her skinny neck. He could feel her thin veins pulsating harshly against his rough palms. She gasps for air as she tried to grab ahold of his mask. He growled in annoyance trying to jerk away from her touch. She scratches him with her fake nails, they pop off making her own fingertips blood out over both of them. His mask had almost fallen, as the burns seeped out a bit on the top. She tried to kick him, but he was too strong. Brahms leaned back his head from her attacks, as his mask was set back slightly into place. The corner of his eyes caught the rat trap his father would leave around the mansion. There was one lying dead inside too, he hated rats. He grunted as one hand left her neck and reached for the trap. She began to punch him furiously he groaned in anger as his fingertips finally pulled over the rat trap. It was in his grasp, firmly now. His eyes went red behind the crooked mask as he looked down on the ugly woman._

_The rat trap was lifted over his head, as his power came into play. She screamed one last time but was cut off immediately as it encountered her head. Such force seeing the blood splatter everywhere around him, the trap, his mask, and his mother's precious jewels. He let go of her throat as he breathed hard, his chest was pounding as the adrenaline heightened, he thought he might pass out himself. He could still hear her moan lightly as she was suffocating underneath his towering frame. He looked at the trap in his scratched hands and opened it to see the dead rodent. He pulled it out seeing its dark onyx coloring and looked at her. His eyes constricted, and his tight ridges drew in disgusted._

_What he did next, only god could say is bad, and the devil would say is good._

_"Rat."_

_With his deep muffled voice resounded throughout the woods. He stood from her motionless body as he walked away from everything. The only thing that could be seen was a rat lodged deep in her mouth._

_The car was pulling up to the Heelshire's front mansion gates._

_"Driver you can stop here, we'll take the walk." said, the man stopped the car in the front. He payed his fair and exit the car with his wife. The man drove off instantly. Mrs. Heelshire took his arm into hers as they walked together. Mr. Heelshire was holding a box that was wrapped classically with blue wrapping paper and a bow. They continued there long walk to there home._

_"I do hope Brahms likes his birthday present. I mean, I know he becoming a man now an-"_

_"Oh, hush now, just because he's becoming a handsome young man doesn't mean he won't like the things we buy him." She said nonchalantly trying to ease his worries. She would always see her son as the handsome boy she'd always loved and care for. No matter what he looked like now, she'd always love her son for who he is, even if he did bad things. Mr. Heelshire felt differently on the subject. Yes, he did love his son, but for how much longer can they do all this for him and not have a normal life._

_"How long?" He asked bluntly._

_"How long what dear?"_

_He sighed. "How long must this go on?" His voice was deep and tired. He himself was not a young man anymore, and his heart grew weaker everyday by the minute._

_"Oh, stop it." She hit his arm playfully, but he was indeed serious as he looked down at his wife's in denial face about their son._

_"Months?"_

_"That's enough."_

_"Years?"_

_"John!" She raised her voice as she turned to face him fully. She stopped dead in her tracks in disbelief, as he did the same. She released her arm from his hold, as she planted her hands on her tiny hips._

_"Until we die?" He said with sadness in his old weary eyes. Mrs. Heelshire looked away from him shaking her head._

_"I am heart broken just as much as you are my dove, but we cannot continue to live like this forever. I want a day where it's just you and me. Perhaps just sitting by the lake enjoying our final moments together without a problem in the world." He pleaded for her to understand and see this may be going a bit too far now._

_"He's my son and I'll do what it takes to protect him." She breathed. "I will not discuss this any further." She snatched the present from his grasp in a huff. He stopped her quickly taking a hold of her wrist softly. She ceased her moment._

_"You know, there will be a day when we both will have no choice, but to sit down and discuss this together." He sighed. "If your waiting for a miracle that someday him might change, it's far too late for that Helen."_

_She turned to face him with pain in her face._

_"You don't know that, m-maybe if you'd actually sit down and have a father and son talk, he might listen and look up to your words!" She said frantically._

_"He won't listen to me!" He snapped back at her._

_"Well he'll listen to me then!"_

_"Damn it Helen he's consuming our lives and what strength we have left to tolerate and meet his demands. You baby him, you tell him he's a good boy even when you know deep down he's not, and he'll take advantage of that! Don't you see, he's smart, he knows how to work his way around things to get what he wants and you reward him anyway with your love and affection because hey let's face it, we don't know how to deal with him anymore! We're terrible parents!"_

_Mrs. Heelshire slapped him across the face with distressing eyes. Mr. Heelshire was surprised that she'd strike him, but he knew he had it coming. They both gave each other strong eye contact before she stormed off with her head held high. Mr. Heelshire face dropped as he followed her few paces back giving her the space she desperately needed. He almost felt a tear escaping his eyes from the broken family he now had been dealing with for many years, and many more to come he thought sadly._

_He'd pray every night with his wife for forgiveness from god and hope one day to be forgiven for their deadly unthinkable sins. He couldn't count how many times he'd gone to confession, but he could never bring himself to tell the full truth of his confession. He hoped it would help him somehow maybe make him feel a bit better, but it didn't seem to work. The greys on his head only to grew more and more each day, he knew he was being punished. And why wouldn't he? He always tried to do what was best for Brahms, but he knew doing this was insanity and just plain wrong._

_They had finally made it to the mansion, also they started to walk on the gravel. Suddenly the door was slammed open ruthlessly creating a loud bang. Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire stopped from the horrifying sight that emerged from there front doors._

_Brahms stood tall with a shovel dangling on his side with a bloody arm. In his other hand was a large black garbage bag, leaving their imagination to do the rest for them. Mrs. Heelshire put a hand over her mouth in shock as her son was cover from head to toe in gore. This was the dreadful image that will stay with her forever. She fainted falling onto the ground. The present had dropped as it became dented from the hard fall. Mr. Heelshire leaned down beside her immediately and caressed her forehead and tried desperately to wake her._

_Brahms only looked down at his collapsed weak mother in his father's arms. He didn't know what to do so he only stared down at them with harden eyes. He didn't think they'd be home so soon, but it didn't matter now, they had seen what he had done once again._

_He'd promise to be good, he would promise and make sure of it, for his mother and father. Was he good though, he thought, he got rid of the bad._

_Brahms closed the wallet, and he felt the leather softly. His eyes were down as he couldn't stop, his mind from thinking. He wanted silence right now, but he wasn't given it. He took a long exhaled beneath the mask. He put the wallet aside as he went through the other pocket pulling out a jingling set of keys. Boring, he thought. He picked up the jacket and then suddenly something hit the floor. Brahms eyes widen from the sound as he backed up lifting the jacket up. Did he miss something, he thought? He lowered his tall body to the floor and saw some small dark box underneath his desk. It laid against the wall. Brahms planted the jacket firmly on the table and lowered himself once again to his knees. He reached for the small black object. When he touched it, he twitched a bit at the soft feeling it had to it. He pondered at it, tilting his head to the side as curiously took over him. He liked the texture of it, a lot actually, he grazed his thumb over the material petting it hard._

_Brahms stood full high and walked over to his bed. He sat down slowly, as he enjoys the feeling the smoothness, he wished he had this material now. He started to feel it a bit more as his thumb pressed a bit harder. It made the top go up slightly revealing something small, silky, and white. He stopped as the white vanished from beneath. He furrowed his brows as there might be more to this little object. There was an indentation around the tiny box._

_Brahms moved it from side to side lightly but that did nothing. He turned the box a different way and lift it a bit. Suddenly there was a click, he raised it a tad. Brahms eyes broaden, he continued to pull up slowly, revealing a crystal of some kind. In the shape of a drop, he thought. It was different compared to his mother's fine jewelry. It peeked his interested somewhat._

_But now Brahms started to wonder why Malcom would be holding onto something like this in his pocket. His eyes tightened a bit again as the thought of Malcom and Greta came up. He was still up with her as he heard faint steps and talking through his intercoms. He listened to every word and didn't dare miss anything that might ruined everything for him. Malcom was a problem that had to be dealt with some day, he hoped that day would come soon for him. He heard their voices arise once again as he listens intently._

_"What's the truth?" She asked._

_"I night I came out here for a delivery, I didn't know it at the time, but it was Brahms's Birthday- or will've been. Mrs. Heelshire was in her sitting room opening presents with the doll. And Mr. Heelshire." He paused._

_"He was in here. Off his pickle." He breathed out a chuckle. "Drunk, a-and mumbling to himself, that he couldn't do it anymore. "He sniggered._

_"Now I told him I'll come back but he said, 'no no come, have a drink with an old man', so I do. Well, we get a couple of drinks here chanting about the weather and some and finally." He rested._

_"I get the courage to asked him an exact question. What was Brahms- the real Brahms like…., he just looks at me with this heart broken look, made me sorry I even asked. He said one word 'odd', he says 'odd', and that was it. I suppose that's all the answers I'll ever get."_

_Brahms tense at his words as he was standing in front of the intercom. He hated that he had a drink with him his father, he never knew about that until now. He was with his mother day. He hated that his father even asked him to join him by his side, he always has though. The son he never had._

_Brahms looked down at the pendent with hatred, as his body felt strained and overheated now. The shined of it hit his eye as he snapped the top shut with a click._

The pendent shined in his eye just like it did last time. It taunted him seeing it now for the first time around her smooth neck. He grew angry seeing it on her. Malcom had really given it to her, it was a gift her, for his Greta, and she took it, she accepted it from him. He knew he shouldn't have put it back in his jacket. The tear drop was for him, from Malcom, to mock him.

"Brahms, w-what is it?" She stuttered her words looking up him. She could feel the heat from his body it was giving off to hers. It made her uneasy. Noticing his eyes weren't on hers, it was something else. Was there something on her that he'd been looking at with such an intense starred. Greta felt bare now.

Greta followed his eyes as she looks down with his. Wait, was it the necklace, she thought? She used her other hand to pick up the necklace slowly with delicate fingers. Brahms seems to snap out from his trance when she moved it from its original spot. Greta looked at it and then back to him.

"Do you…, like it?" She asked with uncertainty. His breathing only increased when she asked him that.

"Brahms, I don't understand-"

Brahms tried to reach for it quickly as she back up a bit.

"No Brahms don't do that." She said firmly. The hold on her wrist tightens. It started to hurt her.

"Hey stop it! Brahms that's enough!" She tried to pry his hand away from her, but he only seemed to tightly his hold on her more now. He snatched her other arm as she tried to push him away from her. Her hits were like a pillow fight, and Brahms was like a rock. He jerked her towards him harshly, but Greta managed to push him on his chest and hairy neck. Brahms head snapped back a bit, his grip now loosened on her. It was almost like she was falling back, but Brahms saw her necklace shine in the light of the moon. Fire a raised as it engulfed his dark eyes.

Brahms reached out his hand quickly as he grasped the pendent around her neck. Greta's heart stopped, everything was happening so fast, but it felt so measured. Her eyes widened at his nasty ones.

He pulled. The chain snapped and shattered into numerous tiny pieces, the silver flew for a brief moment, then started to land on the fall with her. She fell on her back as looked up at him shocked and appalled, Brahms was peering down at her. Greta looked at his tight fist firmly holding her necklace as the broken silver chains came out dangling from each side. She starred back up at his masked face, but it was changed this time.

"I hate you." She sneered up at him with revulsion running through her eyes. She stood up not breaking eye contact with him as he did the same.

"If you ever touch me again, I'll kill you." She spat out like a venomous snake through her teeth. Both their eyes narrowed at one another; it was like war had occurred between the two. A never-ending war. She never felt so much anger consumed her all at once. She picked up her sweater with a hard snatch, she faced him one last time before turning in a huff. She quickly walked the rest of the way down the long hallway and turned a corner.

She could feel something building up fast inside her and didn't feel good. She made it to her room and locked the door from behind. She leaned against the door as her face fell. Her heart felt such pain as if she'd been punched, and the hurt the lingered throughout her aching veins. She wanted to crawl underneath the bed to feel somewhat safe. She hated this, she hated him, she hated being here locked away with a monster keeping her prisoner. She knew that sounded cliché but sadly it was true. It didn't help not knowing how long she be trapped here.

The windows were shut tight and the doors were all locked, she was indeed stuck here, with Brahms. The feeling of tears begins to build up fast at her rapidly over thinking only making things worse for her. She thought she might fall, and she went over to the edge of the bed weakly. She held her hand over her mouth as she sat down. She slowly slid to the cold hard wooden floors. Would she dare pray tonight to ask god for help, not even sure if anyone was even listening. She cried with her head on her knees and her arms held tightly around her legs, trying to console herself.

Brahms watched her storm off, her words were sharp, and poisonous towards him. He didn't want to admit it, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel some kind of hurt. It was a new feeling, one he tried to push away. Brahms had feelings, he knew they were there, but he'd never want to look too deep into them at this very moment.

She was gone. He once again standing alone in the dreary halls. He had almost forgotten he was clinching the necklace. He lifted his fist and opened it gradually. He looked down at it's still sparkling glow. He didn't want to see this ever again. His fist clenched slowly over it once more but this time with loathing in his red glossy eyes. His fist was shaking at how tight he was holding it.

He then threw it with such force as it hit the walk. It rolled and bounced down the stairs. Hearing little clicks and clanks echo to the very bottom of the mansion.

It sounded like water droplets.


End file.
